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1 







CARLOS AND CARLOTA 





Carlota of the Rancho 


BY EVELYN RAYMOND 

II 

AUTHOR OF 

“ POLLY THE GRINGO ” 

MY LADY BAREFOOT,** ETC. 



ILLUSTRATED BY SARAH A. SHREVE 


THE PENN PUBLISHING COMPANY 

PHILADELPHIA 

MCMIX 




COPYEIGHT 
1909 BY 
THE PENN 
PUBLISHING 
COMPANY 


248352 




Carlota of the Eancho 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

I. Border Land 9 

II. Unexpected Guests 21 

III. Refugio 34 

IV. What Serves, Serves . . . . .43 

V. A Little Excursion 58 

VI. The Norther 66 

VII. At the End op Seven DaYs . . .76 

VIII. Botanist and Mineralogist ... 86 

IX. Pablo, the Dancer 95 

X. A Picture in the Sky .... 103 

XI. Friends in Need 114 

XII. The End of a Noble Life . . . 122 

XIII. By the Captain’s Orders . . . 129 

XIV. A First Ride on the Railway . . 137 

XV. Getting Acquainted 145 

XVI. The Next Morning 154 

XVII. The Burnhams 166 

XVIII. A Rough Knight Errant . . . 178 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XIX. Happenings by the Way .... 194 
XX. The Siege of Cork . . : . . 204 

XXI. Follow Your Leader 212 

XXII. The Snarer Snared 221 

XXIII. In the Darkness 228 

XXIV. The Evening and the Morning . . 233 

XXV. An Irish-Indian Onslaught . . 244 

XXVI. Conflicting Emotions .... 252 
XXVII. By Different Tongues .... 263 
XXVIII. At the Point of Death .... 278 

XXIX. Camp Burnham 288 

XXX. The Blue Flower and the Black 

Rock 296 

XXXI. In the Hospital 305 

XXXII. In My Lady’s Chamber .... 313 
XXXIII. Refugio Once More 321 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

Carlos and Carlota Frontispiece 

“Adios! Adios!” 48 

She Startled the Maid ....... 83 


‘‘The Captain Said We Were to Wait” . . 138 


“He Often Caught a Wild Horse” 


. . 261 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


CHAPTEE I 

BORDER LAND 

head is in the United States and my feet 
are in Mexico!’’ cried Carlos sprawling at ease 
upon the sun-warmed grass. 

Whereupon Carlota, not to be outdone in any- 
thing, promptly rolled her plump little person 
over the sward until its length lay along a lime- 
line running due east and west across the plain. 
Her yellow curls touched her twin’s yet her 
body formed a right angle to his. Then she 
remarked : 

‘‘Pooh! I’m better than that! My heart is 
in my own country and my — ^my — What is it 
that’s on the other side of you from your heart, 
brother ? ’ ’ 

“I don’t know. Maybe gizzard.” 

Carlota sat up, amazed and indignant. 


10 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


Girls don^t have gizzards, Carlos Manuel. 
Only chickens and geeses and things like those. 
You haven’t paid attention when my father 
teached you. ’ ’ 

Carlos laughed; so merrily and noisily that 
old Marta came to the door of the adobe house 
to see what was the fun. Nobody knew the 
housekeeper’s real age, it was so very great. 
None could remember things so far back as she, 
but she had ceased to count the years long, 
long ago, why not? What matter, if she still 
had the heart of a child, yes ? 

Certainly, neither Carlos nor Carlota cared. 
To them she had never changed, either in ap- 
pearance or kindness, and they found no birth- 
days worth remembering except their own. 
These only, probably, because of the gifts and 
fiestas ^ then made upon the whole rancho. 

‘‘Perhaps, I didn’t, little sister, but neither 
did you, or you’d never have said ‘geeses’ nor 
‘teached’.” 

“Both of us was wrong, weren’t we?” re- 
turned the girl, with as fine a disregard of gram- 
mar as of ill temper. “We’ll be more ’tentive 


1 Festivals. 


BORDER LAND 


11 


when our father comes home, won^t we? [When 
will that be, Carlos? 

It was a perplexing question, and the boy put 
it aside, as he put all difficulties, until a more 
convenient season. Crossing his arms above 
his head, he gazed unblinkingly upward into the 
brilliant sky, proposing : 

‘‘Let’s find things in the clouds, Carlota. I 
see a ship, I do, truly. It’s just like the pic- 
tures in the books. All its sails are set and fly- 
ing. Oh ! can ’t you see ? Right there ? There ! 
It’s moving northward fast — fast ! It might be 
the ship in which our father will come home.” 

He meant to comfort her, but Carlota would 
not look up. She could not. The sunbeams 
made prisms of the teardrops on her lashes and 
blinded her. She buried her face in the grass to 
escape these tiny “rainbows,” and all at once 
fell to sobbing bitterly. 

Carlos hated that. He hated anything dark 
or unhappy. He sat up and patted his sister’s 
shoulder, soothingly, entreating : 

“There, don’t! Don’t, girlie. Our father 
wouldn’t like it if he should come home now, 
this minute, and find you crying.” 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 




The words were magic. Carlota sprang to 
her feet and earnestly peered into the distance, 
crying : 

‘‘Is he? Do you see him, brother? Do 
you?’’ 

Carlos, also, leaped up and threw his arm 
about her waist: 

“I didn’t say that, did I? I only said ‘if.’ ” 

“I don’t like ‘ifs,’ ” sobbed Carlota. 

“Oh, Carlota, don’t cry. You shall not. If 
you do I will go away myself, to the northwest, 
to find my father.” 

“Oh! let’s!” 

“I said ‘I.’ Not you. Girls never go any- 
where, because they always cry. If it hadn’t 
been for that my father might have taken me 
with him. You see, he couldn’t take you, on ac- 
count of it; and he couldn’t leave you at home 
with only Marta and the men, for then — that 
would make more tears. So I had to stay to 
take care of you, and I do think, if I were 
a girl, the very first thing I would do — I 
wouldn’t cry. Criers never have real good 
times, I guess.” 

This was logic, and from Carlos, whom Car- 
lota idolized only less than their absent father. 


BORDER LAND 


13 


most convincing. She winked very fast and 
drew her sleeve across her eyes, to dry the drops 
which would not be shaken oif. 

‘‘I — I won’t cry any more, brother; that is, 
not where anybody can see me.” 

“Can’t you manage not to do it at all. It’s 
so dreadfully silly. It doesn’t bring father 
back; does it?” 

“No — 0,” assented the other, with a catch 
in her voice. 

“Nor — Oh! brother! If you won’t, you 
won’t, so that’s a dear, and don’t let’s talk any 
more about it. One — two — three ! Who is 
first at the corral shall have first ride on 
Benoni ! ’ ’ 

Now, Carlos was an honorable boy, if a rather 
lazy and pompous one, so he waited until his 
sister had placed her feet exactly alongside his 
own, on that convenient lime-line, before he re- 
peated : 

^ ‘ One — two — three ! Off ! ’ ’ 

Like arrows they sped across the plain, past 
the ancient adobe which was their home, and 
again old Marta hobbled to its door to watch 
the sturdy little figures, graceful as all other 
wild, young creatures of that wide, free land. 


14s 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


Yet they looked more like children of some In- 
dian race, which disdained the dress of civiliza- 
tion, than of white and cultured people. 
Unshorn and bare headed, their yellow curls 
floated backward over shoulders clad in kid-skin. 
Each wore a costume of the same pattern, save 
that Carlota’s tunic reached to her knees, while 
her brother’s was cut short at the waist, where 
a sash of crimson was loosely knotted. At the 
ankles, their leather leggings were met by gaily 
embroidered moccasins ; and, indeed, their whole 
garb was simple and comfortable, though ex- 
quisitely fine and dainty, and had been designed 
by their father to meet the needs of the peculiar 
life they led. 

“Together!” shouted Carlos, as they reached 
their goal; and Carlota’s delight in thus equal- 
ling her brother banished all lonely thoughts. 
She did not suspect, nor he tell her, that her 
twin had purposely shortened his steps to suit 
her own. Instead, he proposed : 

“Let’s ride him together! I heard Miguel 
talking about a ‘ shearing, ’ this morning. ’ ’ 

“Oh! let’s!” 

“Then run to Marta for a bit of luncheon 
while I bridle Benoni. Tell her we may not be 


BORDER LAND 


15 


home till nightfall, for father said we were never 
to worry the dear old thing — so don^t forget 
that, and he sure to bring a lot of her freshest 
hollos.^^ 1 

Carlota had already started, but paused as- 
tonished to ask: 

‘‘Why, brother, does old Marta ever worry? 
I didn’t know it. Worrying is what my father 
does sometimes, isn ’t it ? When people come to 
talk to him about their troubles ? ’ ’ 

Carlos felt that any conversation with the 
word “father” in it was to be avoided, so an- 
swered indifferently : 

“Oh! not really worry, you know. She 
wouldn’t do that about me; nor about you, if I 
were with you. And I s’pose I’m master of 
the rancho when my father” — but there was 
that word forcing itself in again, and the boy 
hurried past it to add, convincingly: “A 
master, a Don or a Senor, a gentleman, always 
looks out for the comfort of all his old women 
and little girls.” 

They would never get the delectable hollos at 
this rate ! For the mood and manner which had 
fallen upon her twin was so new to Carlota that 


1 Cakes. 


16 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


she could only stand and stare at his swaggering 
movements. Seeing this, he promptly assumed 
his natural manner, which was not that of a 
care-taker, and, springing to Benoni ’s back laid 
himself down along it while, clasping the 
animal’s beautiful neck, he rode out of the cor- 
ral. 

Again standing at her doorway, old Marta 
awaited the children’s approach, reflecting : 

‘‘Ah ! little ones ! So it is always. The easy 
things of life fall to my Carlos, by right, is it 
not? While to thee, nina, the speeding feet of 
my service, the burden and the care. But not 
yet, heart of mine. Look not so at Marta with 
thy great eyes. There shall be no care for thee, 
beloved, while I live. What do I hear? 
Bonos'^, Sweets? Not home till nightfall? 
Caramha! With whom, then, shall I play when 
all my tasks are done? Si,^ I know. I will 
take me my guitar and I will to myself sing, 
why not. But to myself, en verdad,^ quite to 
my own self.” 

Now, this wise old dame knew that nothing 
would more easily lure her charges home in good 
season than this suggestion of songs and guitar. 


lYes. 


2 In truth. 


BORDER LAND 


17 


To hear old Marta sing, in her cracked and 
toothless voice, was the funniest experience of 
their gay young lives. It was rarely she could 
be prevailed upon to so amuse them and Carlota 
hesitated and called to Carlos: 

‘‘Brother, did you hear that? This is the 
night when Marta sings. If we shouldn’t get 
back in time! But — they will be shearing for 
many days to come.” 

“So will our Marta sing, at any hour, to 
please her ‘heart’s dearest’!” retorted the 
boy, laughing and sitting upright upon Benoni, 
while he bowed so profoundly that he lost his 
balance and slipped to the ground, at the old 
woman’s feet. 

“Woulds’t jeer at thy Marta, woulds’t thou?” 
she demanded, and playfully cuffed him. Then, 
laughing as merrily as they, she swung Carlota 
up into her brother’s place, exclaiming : “ ’Tis 

thou, soul of my life, shall ride ‘before’ this 
day ! ’ ’ 

She seized the loosened bridle just in time. 
Another instant and Benoni would have been off 
over the plain for a wild gallop with the now 
rising wind. He, too, was young and full of ca- 
price as these other children — golden-haired 


18 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


and gray. None of the four knew any other 
home than Refugio, that cluster of venerable 
adobe buildings, nor much further restraint 
than the needs of nature imposed. 

To live always in the open, save when hunger 
or drowsiness drove them indoors, to love all 
men and fear none — such was their habit. As 
yet, of things deeper than habit only Marta ever 
thought, and she but seldom. Their moods 
were their rulers and the present mood of the 
twins was for a long holiday at the sheep-shear- 
ing, a dozen miles away. 

So, indulgent Marta brought out her finest 
basket — of such exquisite workmanship that it 
could be folded like a cloth, yet so tightly woven 
it would hold water — and packed it with a 
generous luncheon. Yet, as she finished her 
task, she lifted her face and sniffed sus- 
piciously, saying : 

‘‘Ha! The wind rises faster. That is not 
good. There may be a ‘norther.’ Best safe at 
home, to-day, my children. To-morrow, ma- 
nana, there will yet be the shearing.” 

“Of course, Marta. Didn’t s’pose they could 
finish it in one day, did you? This year there 


BORDER LAND 


19 


are more sheep than ever and my father — 

Carlos paused and glanced at his sister. 
That day, it seemed as if he couldn’t open his 
lips without mentioning that absent loved one, 
which was natural enough. Their father was 
the center of their existence, and for the first 
time in their memories, he had been away for 
many days; they had not yet learned to live 
without him. 

However, Carlota had not noticed anything 
save that mention of the sheep-shearing and a 
dreadful possibility had entered her mind con- 
cerning it. Impatient to be away, she ex- 
claimed : 

“Never mind the wind, Marta, dear. It’s 
delicious, for the sun is so hot. But if you fear 
a ‘norther,’ just please give us our blankets 
and sombreros and let us go. Do you know, I 
haven’t seen — Santa Maria — this day!” 

“Nor I, San Jose! Do you s’pose — would 
they dare — just because our father is away — ” 

Whatever Carlota ’s fear, Carlos now shared 
it. He added his entreaties to hers and Marta 
limped into the house after their little Navajo 
blankets and sombreros, which they put between 


20 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


them upon Benoni’s back, while Carlos cried: 

“Now we’re ready for anything that comes. 
Don’t sing till we get home, dear Marta, and — 
AdiosI Guay, Benoni! VamosF^ ^ 

1 “ Farewell. Take care, Benoni ! Go on ! ” 


CHAPTER II 


UNEXPECTED GUESTS 

Before they had ridden far, Carlos, whom 
Marta had laughingly compelled to take the 
place behind his sister, reached over her 
shoulder and laid his hand upon the bridle rein, 
saying : 

‘‘Wait, Carlo ta. Turn him around. I want 
to go to the schoolroom and get my riata ^ and 
my little hammer.’’ 

“Let’s! I’ll get my posy-box, too. Maybe 
we’ll find some nice new things to show our 
father — when he comes home,” she wistfully 
answered. 

“Of course!” assented the boy, wheeling 
Benoni about, only to pull him up again in sheer 
amazement. 

Upon the plain before them was a group of 
four persons, neither Indians, neighbors, nor any 
white settlers whom the children knew, though 


1 Lasso. 


21 


22 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


the two burros were of the familiar type of 
vaqueros ^ employed upon their own rancho. 
The other two strangers were mounted upon fine 
horses and wore queer clothing, once white, but 
now soiled and travel-stained. On their heads 
were curious canvas helmets with green linings 
and floating, gauzy veils. Also, these two men 
carried monster umbrellas of white and green, 
which strange articles nearly sent Benoni into 
convulsions. He trembled like an aspen, and 
his suffering promptly restored Carlota’s own 
composure. She soothed him in her gentlest 
accents : 

<< There, there, my darling! Whoa, my 
pretty! Dearest beastie, don’t you fear, heart 
of my life! Carlota will take care of Benoni, 
So she will ! ’ ’ 

Carlos could only sit and stare, his curiosity 
increasing when the foremost rider of the group 
burst into a hearty laugh of relief and amuse- 
ment. Then he exclaimed : 

‘^So, you two ferocious creatures are not 
young Indians, after all! But pray tell me if 
this is a land where the girls act as guides and 
protectors to their brothers. ’ ’ 


1 Herdsmen. 


UNEXPECTED GUESTS 


23 


Neither child fully understood this speech, 
yet Carlos perceived that, for the second 
time that day, he was being ridiculed. First, 
by old Marta, and now by this stranger. This 
made him forget that cardinal virtue of instant 
and unquestioning hospitality in which he had 
been trained and to retort : 

^‘If people do not like the land and its customs 
they neednT come into it, no! As for girls 
‘protecting’ — Pooh ! Everywhere men who are 
men are brave as they are tender and, my father 
says, to be indulgent is not weakness, always.” 

The stranger’s amusement had given place to 
a frank admiration of the beautiful boy thus 
arrogantly assuming manhood’s airs, even in 
part deserving them. Also, the younger gentle- 
man courteously asked : 

“Will you kindly tell me, little lady, if there 
is water near at hand? We are all very 
thirsty. ’ ’ 

“Surely. Eight here in the schoolroom. It 
is but a tiny way — . Only those queer things — 
Benoni — I’d show you if it wasn’t for them. 
I’ll show you, anyway. Here, Carlos!” and 
with a swift, graceful movement the girl tossed 
the bridle toward her brother and slipped to 


24 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


the ground. Then lightly catching the bit-ring 
of the questioner’s horse, she ran forward at a 
pace which compelled the animal she led to 
trot. Right yonder, where the osiers grow, is 
the most delicious spring of water in all New 
Mexico. So my father thinks.” 

Everybody now followed Carlota, even 
Benoni; though he planted his forefeet firmly 
every once in a while as if protesting against 
the cruelty of his young master in thus forcing 
him to keep so near those terrible umbrellas; 
but, fortunately, by the time they reached the 
spring these obnoxious things had been furled 
and laid upon the ground. 

‘ ^ The basket, brother I The basket — hurry ! ’ ’ 
cried the little girl, promptly emptying its 
precious cakes upon the grass as he tossed 
it to her. Then she filled it with water and 
offered it to him who had first complained of 
thirst. 

“Thank you, little lady, but my father needs 
it most. All the time he suffers from the heat 
and dryness, and is always ready for a drink. 
Though I doubt if he has ever used a cup so 
odd and pretty.” 

“Beg pardon, but it isn’t a cup. It’s a 


UNEXPECTED GUESTS 


25 


basket. Old Marta made it. She can make 
some even beautifnller. ” 

‘‘Indeed? What a skillful Marta she must 
be! This is the finest basket I ever saw.^^ 
Then, receiving the utensil from his father’s 
hand he dipped and offered it to the two Mex- 
ican servants. Afterward he quenched his own 
thirst, which must have been intense, for he 
drank so deeply before he finished. 

‘ ‘ There ! I thought you were a gentleman, if 
the other’s not,” remarked the observant Car- 
lota, with satisfaction. 

‘ ‘ Eh ? Thank you, but I must claim that my 
father is, also, a gentleman.” 

“Why then did he make Carlos get angry?” 

‘ ‘ Maybe because he ’s very tired and not used 
to boys. Where is the schoolroom you men- 
tioned?” 

‘ ‘ Why — this. We ’re in it, now. ’ ’ 

The young man whistled in surprise, and ex- 
claimed : 

“Well, truly, this is a remarkable country! 
An out-of-door schoolroom. Is the sun your 
teacher?” 

‘ ‘ My father is our teacher. Course, he knows 
everything there is, I guess.” 


26 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘What is his name? I like to know wise 
people, though they are very scarce. ^ ^ 

“Adrian Manuel. My brother is Carlos and 
I am Carlota Manuel. We are twins, though 
he is so much bigger than me. ’ ’ 

Again the stranger whistled, then hastily 
called to the older man who had lain down in 
the shade of the osiers to cool and rest: 

‘ ‘ Father ! We Ve struck the very spot ! ^ ’ 
That gentleman arose with surprising quick- 
ness, exclaiming : 

‘ ‘ What ! Is this the Refugio Rancho ? ^ ’ 

“Yes, Senor,’’ answered Carlos who had 
shown the Mexicans a pool beyond the spring 
where they could water their animals and who 
now returned to stand beside his sister, with 
his arm about her shoulders. 

“Does you father live here, son?’’ 

“Course.” 

“Where is he?” 

‘ ‘ I don ’t know. ’ ’ 

“What’s that? I have come a long, long dis- 
tance on purpose to see, and talk with him. 
I’ve written him a score of letters without avail, 
so now I’ll try what word of mouth will do,” 


UNEXPECTED GUESTS 


27 


answered the elder gentleman, with considerable 
sharpness. 

“When he comes home he’ll be glad to talk 
with you. He always likes to talk with 
strangers and makes them welcome. I forgot 
that when I lost my temper. I beg your par- 
don, Senor.” 

Don’t mention it, lad. But allow me to say 
that, upon my word, you’re the queerest little 
chap I ever met. Indian clothes, Spanish 
graces, and Yankee bluntness. So this is 
Eefugio, at last! Hmm, hmm. Well, well, 
well! Where is the house!” 

“Yonder, Senor, among the palms and olives 
that partly hide it. There is a rise of ground 
that way, too. Would you like to go there 
now?” asked Carlos, once more the courteous 
small host his father would have approved. 

“Presently, thank you. But I find this rest 
and shade delightful. My ! It’s a hot country ! 
Sit down on the grass here and tell me all you 
know about Eefugio.” 

Both children laughed aloud at that, Carlos 
replying : 

“It would take till nightfall! Why, I could 


2S 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


talk about our dear Refugio ‘forever and a day’ 
and not have done. You see, Senor, it’s such 
a very old place. My father says it is one of 
the most ancient landmarks. A landmark is, if 
you don’t know — I didn’t — one of the bound- 
aries of a country or its history. Old Refugio 
is both.” 

The boy was as eager to discuss this beloved 
subject as the newcomers were to listen, but 
Carlota quietly interposed : 

“If brother once begins to talk about Refugio 
and the things which have happened here he 
won’t know how to stop. Yet my father says 
that travelers are always hungry when they get 
here, we live so far from any other rancho. So, 
if you won’t go to the house yet, will you have 
some of our cakes here?” 

Gathering up the cakes and loaves she had 
emptied from the basket, she proffered them to 
the strangers, beginning with the gray haired 
man as she had seen his son do with the water. 

“Yes, thank you. Though it’s not long since 
we stopped to eat, those cakes smell very ap- 
petizing. Let us all sit about the spring and 
enjoy them together. So, this is your school- 
room. What do you learn in it?” he asked. 


UNEXPECTED GUESTS 

‘‘I could better tell you what we douT. First, 
there’s geography. See that white line?” 

‘‘Yes. It suggests a tennis-court. What is 
it for?” 

Carlos sprang up and merrily bestrode the 
line-mark, crying: 

“One leg is in my native land and one upon 
foreign soil! That’s the way my father says 
it. This — ” putting his hand upon a tuft of 
grass — “is in Mexico. This other in the 
United States. Our rancho is the southeast 
boundary of our own country. Our house was 
built hundreds of years ago by the good priests 
who came to teach the Pueblos about our Lord. 
That’s why they named it Eefugio, the House of 
Eefuge. Because it wasn’t only to help folks 
to go to Heaven, it was to give them shelter 
when they were persecuted. Somebody must 
always have been fighting then, I think.” 

“So history says. Do you learn that, too?” 
inquired the younger gentleman. 

“Yes. Not out of books, though. Father 
says we’re to study that way, later. Now, he 
just brings out old Gaudalupo — who’s a hun- 
dred and fifteen years — and, sometimes, Marta, 
and makes them what he calls his ‘texts.’ He 


30 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


says that theyTe living history. Carlota and I 
are history-makers, too. If we should live as 
long as those old folks somebody might find us 
just as interesting as we do them.’’ 

“Far more so, maybe. I find you extremely 
interesting even now. I would like to hear a 
great deal about your lives and doings. ’ ’ 

Carlos thoughfully studied the young gentle- 
man’s face, then asked: 

“Would you, really? How strange that 
seems — just children like us. Let me see. We 
learn Spanish and behavior — when we don’t 
forget it — from the Mestizas. They are never, 
never rude. Even when they stab a man in 
the back they do it courteously. So Miguel 
says.” 

“What? What! You dreadful child! Are 
you taught stabbing, also, in this modern school 
of philosophy?” demanded the elder Mr. Dis- 
brow, nervously glancing toward his dark- 
skinned servants. 

Carlos rolled upon the grass, boisterously 
laughing. Then, suddenly remembering the 
“courtesy” which he boasted of having studied, 
sat up and apologized. 

The apology accepted, the inquiry followed : 


UNEXPECTED GUESTS 


31 


‘‘Do you like to speak the Spanish you are 
taught?^’ 

“Oh! I love it! You can say such things in 
it. They seem to mean more, ^specially if 
youTe angry. But our father doesnT wish us 
to use it very much. He says we must first ac- 
quire pure English. He is very particular him- 
self. But isnT it hard to be grammar-yU’ 
asked Carlota, not to be left out of the conversa- 
tion. 

“Very. Yet, I think your father couldnT 
have greatly objected to the Spanish, since he 
gave you such pretty Spanish names,’’ answered 
Mr. Rupert. 

“That was our mother’s doing. She named 
us. See? That is where she sleeps. That is 
her grave.” 

The little girl stood up and pointed to a clump 
of agave plants, in the midst of which rose a 
flower-decked mound, with a simply-inscribed, 
natural boulder at its head. 

After a hasty exchange of glances, with one 
impulse, the strangers rose and quietly walked 
to the spot Carlota had designated. For a little 
time they stood there, with bowed heads, as if 
doing reverence to the slumbering dust below. 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

then gravely turned away. They did not again 
sit down in the ‘ ‘ schoolroom ’ ’ and, immediately, 
Mr. Rupert asked the children to guide them to 
the house. 

For the first time in their lives the twins re- 
garded their mother ^s resting place with feel- 
ings of awe, inspired by the solemn manner of 
these strangers. She had died when they were 
babies, but their father had kept alive in their 
hearts a consciousness of her existence as real 
as it was joyous. 

Their happy mother, young, beloved, and 
beautiful; who had sung and laughed her way 
through life, and who had trustfully gone out of 
it to another which was even fuller of sunshine. 
Why should anybody grow stern and sad who 
looked down upon her grave? 

They could not fathom the mystery, and 
soberly led the way to the old adobe Mission, 
which had been a House of Refuge for so many 
strangers. 

‘‘I think, Carlota, maybe these are the 
‘enemy’ sort of folks Miguel so often talks 
about, and seems to expect will come, some- 
time to Refugio,” impressively whispered 
Carlos. 


UNEXPECTED GUESTS 


36 


‘Enemies’ are wicked people, isn’t they?” 

“Ye-es. I be-lieve so;” yet the boy’s tone 
Was doubtful. If these were “enemies” they 
appeared to be more queer than wicked. 

‘ ‘ Hmm. Then that is why. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Why what, girlie ? ’ ’ 

“Why they wear such funny hats on their 
heads and carry such strange things in their 
hands. Don’t you remember that in all the 
stories of bad ones there’s always something to 
know them by? Marks on their foreheads, or 
ugly clothes or faces; and now those have — I 
wonder what they call these horrid greeny- 
white open-and-shutters that scared Benoni so ! 
You see, brother, he knew they were ‘enemies’ 
at once. Horses do know lots about such 
things, Marta says.” 

“They are ‘sunumberellas.’ I asked the 
^ gentleman, ’ ’ answered Carlos, proud of this ac- 
quisition to his “pure English.” 

“Then whenever I see a ‘sunerbell’ I shall 
know I see an ‘enemy,’ too,” rejoined Carlota, 
with conviction. 


CHAPTEE III 


KEFUGIO 

Nobody living knew how old the House of 
Eefuge was. 

Gaudalupo, who seemed as native to the soil 
as the cacti at its gates, affirmed that it did not 
“grow any older. He had been born there 
and he had found it “just so.’’ It had never 
changed. 

It was an abandoned Franciscan Mission, 
with chapel and cloister and bell-tower. With- 
in that square, corner belfry still hung the cu- 
rious bells, each with a rude, jangling clapper 
between its iron discs. Tradition said that 
these quaint bells were rung by the ancient 
Padres not only to summon their neophytes to 
religious services but, also, to their meals ; and 
this hospitable custom was still followed by 
Adrian Manuel, into whose possession as a 
private residence the Mission had now come. 

Early in his occupation he had carefully re- 
34 


REFUGIO 


35 


stored the half-obliterated Spanish text over 
the refectory door: ‘‘It is the House of Ref- 
uge. Enter and be glad, all ye who will.’’ 
Thereafter, so far as lay within his power, the 
new master of old Refpgio made that legend 
the rule of his own household. 

So when old Marta saw the children return- 
ing so soon, accompanied by strangers, she set 
the fire ablaze and, at once, prepared a pot of 
her delicious coffee. When, putting a loaf and 
a knife upon the oaken table, she repaired to the 
doorway and, with many obeisances, awaited the 
party’s approach. 

The sight of her banished all perplexities 
from Carlota’s mind, and she ran forward to 
take her own rightful place at the house- 
keeper’s side; for, as her beloved father often 
told her, was she not the little mistress of his 
home? Thence she announced with her best 
manner : 

“Welcome, friends. We are very happy to 
see you at Refugio.” Yet she whispered to old 
Marta : ‘ ‘ Brother and I think that these people 

are ‘enemies,’ but then they’re guests, too. 
They have come to see my father.” 

The strangers politely returned the child’s 


36 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


salutation and again the elder Mr. Disbrow ex- 
claimed : ‘ ‘ So, this is Refugio ! ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, Sehor — Mister Stranger, and I hope 
you will like it,’’ answered Carlota. 

The younger gentleman now made a formal 
presentation : 

“This is Mr. George Griswold, my father; 
and I am Rupert, his son. Maybe you have 
heard of us. Miss Carlota.” 

“No, Mr. Rupert, never. Did you ever see 
our father?” 

“I have not, but my father knew him very 
well. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ How delightful ! Isn ’t he — Didn ’t you love 
him dearly?” she eagerly demanded of. the elder 
man. 

‘ ‘ Hmm. I can ’t say that there was any affec- 
tion between us.” 

At this reply Carlota drew back, chilled; but 
Mr. Rupert immediately began to speak of her 
beautiful home and its curiosities and for her, 
as for Carlos, there was no theme more beloved. 

Forgetting her annoyance she hastily began to 
lead her guest about the ancient buildings, de- 
scanting upon every object they passed with 
such eagerness that she thereby greatly con- 


REFUGIO 


37 


fused his ideas concerning them. So that he 
pleaded : 

^‘Slowly, little lady, please. lUs all so won- 
derful to me I want to take it carefully. This 
was the refectory, you say. Do you still use 
it for a dining hallT’ 

‘‘Yes, oh! yes. And, sometimes, after the 
shearing and such things when we have every- 
body here to a fiesta, it is just full of people. 
Oh! I love it then! and so does my father. 
But — now shut your eyes! Please shut them 
just a minute and don’t open them till I tell you, 
and I’ll show you the ‘loveliest spot on earth,’ 
my father says.” 

Her enthusiasm won his compliance with her 
whim and, like a boy at play, he followed her 
blindfold down many passages and through the 
breezy cloister, till she paused and cried : 
“Now, look! Quick!” 

Then he raised his lids but promptly dropped 
them again, to clear his bewildered vision. 

“Oh! Senor, isn’t it beautiful?” 

“Beautiful, indeed! It is a miracle! It is 
a paradise!” 

“Oh! no. It is my mother’s garden,” said 
Carlota, simply. 


38 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘^But your mother is dead, long ago,’’ re- 
sponded Mr. Rupert, in surprise. 

‘ ‘ She has only gone to Heaven. Father and 
I are taking care of it for her. He does all 
the heavy work, because the water-cans are too 
big for me, though we have a fine little water- 
wagon that we roll around from place to place. 
But I, myself, prune and cut every plant that 
needs it. They are from almost all the 
countries in the world, and some of them have 
cost my father much, much money. Many have 
cost nothing but a nice ride or tramp after 
them. All the things my mother put here, her- 
self, are still alive. Nothing can help living 
because we so love everything that grows ; and, 
besides, the climate is perfect, my father says,” 
finished the little girl. 

Truly it was a wonderful place, this old court 
of the monastery. Its southern, open side was 
a hedge of the prickly pear, which the wise 
Franciscans had found a natural and safe barri- 
cade against the troublous Indians. This hedge 
was much taller than Carlota’s head and was 
more than eight feet in width. Its lower 
branches were curiously gnarled and twisted 
and as thick as a man’s arm, while every por- 


REFUGIO 


39 


tion bristled with strong spines more difficult 
to force than bayonet-points, they were so 
closely interwoven and needle-sharp. Mr. Ru- 
pert would have tarried long before this ancient 
hedge, but his small guide would not so allow. 

‘‘See those palms and olives! They are as 
old as old ! Like Refugio itself. But the roses 
yonder came from France only this last year. 
And right here — look! These are anemones 
from my mother’s own childhood’s home. She 
had them sent after her when she came here. ’ ’ 

“And living still!” 

“Surely. Do you s’pose we’d ever let them 
die! God had to have her in His Heaven, but 
He left us her garden. My father — ” 

“Your ‘father’ is your idol, isn’t he!” 

“My idol! Father! How queer!” The 
idea was so amusing that the child clapped her 
hands and laughed aloud. She had been used 
to hearing the literal truth and “idols” sug- 
gested something most grotesque. Cried she: 
“Come! I’ll show you. We have a lot, from 
the Pueblos, and Old Mexico, and everywhere. 
There is a room just for them, the ugly, hideous 
things !” 

She made him look at them every one. Cheap 


40 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


little images of red clay, or stone, with some 
that were more pretentious ; and as he examined 
them his astonishment continually grew. Not 
at the curious carving, for the ^‘collection’’ was 
not extensive, but at the characteristics of this 
unknown Adrian Manuel, whom he had heard 
described as “beneath contempt.” 

However, his reflections were cut short, not 
only by Carlota’s eagerness to show him more 
of the Mission but by the entrance of a man who 
might be either a “cow boy” or a Mexican 
brigand, to judge from his appearance. 

And now, for the first time in her life, Carlota 
heard Miguel Cardanza speak otherwise than 
courteously to a guest. He brusquely asked : 

‘ ‘ Senor, will you tell me your business here ? ’ ’ 

Mr. Rupert showed a brief surprise, then 
quietly answered : 

“I accompany my father, Mr. George Dis- 
brow, upon an unfamiliar journey to accomplish 
a certain task. I will leave him to explain what 
that is. Are you Adrian Manuel?” 

“His trusted friend and major domo,^ 
Miguel Cardanza, at your service;” but the 
haughty salutation which accompanied these 


1 steward. 


REFUGIO 


41 


words evinced that such ‘^service” would be 
grudgingly performed. 

‘‘When will your master return?’^ 

“Senor, at his own good pleasure.’^ 

“We will, I presume, await that season, 
trusting it will not long be postponed. ’ ’ 

“That is as may be. But I must, on his be- 
half, request you to leave Refugio immediately. 
Yes, yes, little one. I know you marvel to hear 
such rudeness from your MiguePs lips. Yet I 
am right, yes. I know what I do. Well, 
Senor!’’ 

“But Mr. Cardanza, I protest. Though he 
might not care to receive us I doubt if even 
your master would turn us adrift in this 
sparsely settled land. We have traveled many 
miles since daybreak, yet this is the first shelter 
we have seen.” 

‘ ‘ Senor, you traveled in the wrong direction, 
that is all. There are settlements in plenty. 
That way, thus — ” pointing toward the north- 
east — “lives a man who takes in pilgrims for 
a price. He is a hungry miner, and an hour’s 
ride will bring you to his shack. It is the only 
inn this side Lanark.” 

Carlota had been a silent listener to this 


42 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


dialogue but she now interrupted it with : 

^‘Miguel, you shall not send any weary man 
away. Even if he were — were the evil one, this 
was once God’s House, and it is still Refugio. 
Miguel Cardanza, I shall tell my father about 
you when he comes home. Oh ! if he came now ! 
What would he say to you but : ^ Good Miguel, 
hot-headed as ever?’ Oh! I know. I’ve heard 
him, often, often. Do be a nice old Miguel, 
do—” 

The Spaniard flushed but caught the child’s 
hand and whispered in her ear. She listened 
with impatience, amazement, and, at last, with 
wild alarm. Then, darting one terrified glance 
toward the unfortunate Mr. Rupert, vanished 
from the cloister, shrieking, as she ran: 

‘‘Carlos! Carlos! Brother! My brother! 
For our father’s sake come — come quick — 
quick ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER IV 


WHAT SEKVES, SERVES 

Miguel was the trusted and capable manager 
of Refugio Rancho, and, also, he knew some- 
thing of its owner ^s private atfairs. What he 
did not know he surmised and not always cor- 
rectly. He knew that Mrs. Manuel, an 
orphan, had married against the will of the 
wealthy eccentric aunt who had reared her; 
and that this old Mrs. Sinclair had never for- 
given Adrian Manuel for his share in the affair, 
and had harshly accused him of seeking her 
money as well as her niece, whom she promptly 
disinherited. 

Then, after the death of the young wife, she 
suddenly demanded possession of ‘‘her Mary’s 
children;” alleging that their father was unfit 
to “raise them in the wilderness.” This de- 
mand had been made in her name by her 
lawyers, Disbrow and Disbrow. Upon condi- 
tion of Mr. Manuel’s absolutely resigning them 
43 


U CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

to her she promised to educate them well and 
to bequeath them her fortune. Originally, the 
lonely old lady had asked for the children from 
a real desire for their alfection, hoping they 
would fill the place in her life left empty by 
their mother’s desertion; but when the father 
positively and courteously declined her offers 
on their behalf, her strong and wilful temper 
had been aroused and she determined to have 
them at all costs. 

It had therefore developed into a mere con- 
test of wills. ,The lawyers’ letters grew more 
freq t and importunate as the years passed 
and, finally, she had induced the Disbrows to 
undertake a personal visit to Refugio in the 
hope of thus effecting what the numberless 
letters had failed to do. 

Mr. Manuel’s plans for his idolized children 
were simple and decided, and though not a 
wealthy man, he possessed sufficient fortune to 
carry them out. He intended to educate them 
himself up to a certain degree; then, leaving 
Refugio in Miguel’s hands, go north with them, 
place them in some good co-educational college, 
and himself settle near them till their four 
years’ course of study should be completed. 


WHAT SERVES, SERVES 


45 


But, of late, something had happened to make 
these plans doubtful. He had not confided this 
doubt to Miguel, but had gone quietly away for 
a time until the doubt could be settled. He did 
not explain what this uncertainty was. He 
merely departed, leaving a sealed letter of in- 
structions in his steward’s hands. If at the 
end of two months he had not returned this 
letter was to be opened and its instructions im- 
plicitly followed. Meanwhile: 

‘‘You are master of Refugio while I am gone, 
good Miguel. And more than that you are ab- 
solute guardian of my precious children till I 
come and claim them from you. See to it, on 
your love and honor, that no harm befalls them ; 
else, look to welcome home a broken-hearted 
man. ’ ’ 

These had been Adrian Manuel’s last words 
to his manager, as he departed on a journey 
more hazardous than anybody guessed, and 
Miguel had treasured them in his inmost heart. 

Now his fealty and his honor were to be 
tested. Instantly, upon learning who the 
strangers were and realizing that they had 
chosen the time of his master’s absence to 
arrive, he leaped to the conclusion that they had 


46 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

come to carry by force what persuasion had 
failed to accomplish. In brief : they had come 
to kidnap the twins ! 

It was this belief which had inspired his rude- 
ness to Mr. Rupert and this fear which had been 
whispered to little Carlota. He had bidden 
her seek Carlos and go with him to some safe 
place of hiding until such time as the strangers 
should grow weary of their fruitless efforts and 
depart. There were many, many outbuildings 
at Refugio. It was, indeed, as strangers always 
said, large enough for a regular rancheria, or 
village, and had been such in the old Padres^ 
time. In some one of these many old adobes 
the imperilled little ones might stay till danger 
was past, and in whichever spot they hid he 
would soon find and watch over them. The 
main thing was for them to disappear, and at 
once. Alas! hasty Miguel little dreamed how 
literally they were to obey his commands ! 

It was but a few moments after the manager 
had whispered his caution that old Marta 
paused in her supper getting, and its incident 
scolding of young Anita, her helper, to watch 
the children speed past her kitchen door, and 
remarked ; 


WHAT SERVES, SERVES 


47 


‘ ‘ There they flit, yes, the children of my last 
days. Heart of my life, but it was fine to hear 
that small Carlota speak the strange Senor 
so fair. Anita, under her curls of gold lie the 
brains thou lackest, my imbecile ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Then if she has what belongs to me, let her 
restore to me my own, for her then, the indolent, 
would be thy unnumbered chidings. Good. 
‘Turn about is fair play.’ Why should she al- 
ways be free to run and ride while I — ” 

“Take that for thy insolence, kitchen-maid I 
Let me tell thee that in that far land whence my 
child’s blessed mother came, the Senor Manuel 
of holy memory, there are — Bah! Why waste 
words on such? This is for the impudence ; and 
this — because thou mindest not the podrida ^ 
but must be staring, staring at every stranger- 
man crossing the threshold of Refugio!” 

The housekeeper’s words were emphasized by 
a couple of heavy slaps upon Anita’s broad 
shoulders, but the girl cared no more for the 
blows than for the interminable scoldings. It 
was all in the day’s work, yes. She, too, loved 
her master’s children, as everybody knew, and 
having annoyed Marta by her pretended envy 


1 stew. 


48 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


of Carlota the mischievous maid was ready to 
join the old woman at the door and behold what 
thence might be seen. 

There was always something interesting. 
Miguel pottering about, swaggering in that 
authority he never allowed to lapse; a vaguer o 
coming or going; now and again, a farm hand, 
with Mateo, the gardener; and ‘‘forever and 
always, the poultry-boys, chasing the fowls 
from the cistern. 

Anita was just in time to see the twins swing 
themselves upon Benoni’s back, where their 
Navajo blankets still rested. They had put on 
their sombreros and now, seeing the two 
women in the doorway, Carlos caught his off 
and waved it as he cried: 

‘^Adios! Marta — Anita — Refugio! Adios 
—ADIOS.r^ 

What was there in that familiar salutation 
that set old Marta’s heart to beating trip-ham- 
mer strokes? Clapping her withered hand to 
her side she caught hold of Anita and whirled 
that young person around with an unexpected 
force, demanding: 

“Did’st thou hear that, yes? Why do they 
say that? What is it?” 



“ADIOS, ADIOSI” 




WHAT SERVES, SERVES 


49 


‘‘Leave hand I May I not hearken the last 
word of the little one but I must be sent to mind 
an old stew-pot of podrida?^^ 

‘‘Podrida — Pstit! Tell me. There’s some- 
thing amiss with my children, is it not I ^ Adios ’ 
— ‘farewell’ — It has been often in that voice 
of silver, but always with the sound of ‘I re- 
turn,’ so sweet to hear. Always with the 
laughter breaking through, but this time — the 
heart-break ! ’ ’ 

Feeling her own superstitious heart sing be- 
fore that strange expression on Marta’s paling 
face, Anita indignantly retorted : 

“You are a fanciful old woman. You are 
dotard. What? Have you an ague, you? 
Speak. Have you never seen the small ones 
ride away upon Benoni that you should stare at 
ghosts this hour?” 

“Ghosts? Yes. I dreamed of their mother 
last night. She was not weeping and wringing 
her white hands, no? Anita Pichardo, I tell 
thee that evil has come to Refugio this day, 
and it is the strangers who have brought it.” 

She paused and pointed toward Mr. Rupert, 
hastily coming down the cloistered walk. 

“Well then, Mother Marta, it is I, Anita, who 


50 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


thanks this unknown evil for coming by so hand- 
some a carrier, yes. In truth, if it is this fine 
Senor I am to serve at supper I will even both- 
er to stir the stew once more. Then I will put 
on my Sunday gown, why not? Many stran- 
gers have come to Eefugio, but none so comely 
as yon.’^ 

Being something of a beauty and more of a 
coquette, maid Anita chose the roundabout way 
to her own chamber, along the veranda fioor 
and through the cloister, casting arch glances 
toward the young lawyer who met her midway 
the passage, but noticed her not at aU. 

Yet her trouble was not useless for, at the 
turn of the corridor, she came upon Miguel and 
one of the Mexicans who had arrived in the 
Griswolds’ company. They were talking in 
Spanish and Anita did not scruple to pause and 
hearken; and what she overheard worked the 
customary mischief of all half-truths, and she 
exclaimed : 

Santa Maria! It is so, then. Old Marta 
was right! They knew, those small ones, my 
heart’s delights ! and they have run away ! Yes, 
yes, I understand! It was ^Adios/ indeed. 
But—” 


WHAT SERVES, SERVES 


51 


Her coquetry now forgotten, Anita hurried 
back to the kitchen by the shortest route; and, 
muttering something which Marta did not com- 
prehend, caught off the pot of stew from its 
hook in the fireplace. Hastily emptying the 
mess into a handled jar, she seized a loaf from 
the table and rushed away. The whole transac- 
tion had so amazed the housekeeper that she 
was speechless till, as the flutter of the maid’s 
scarlet petticoat waved defiance from the door- 
yard, her voice returned: 

Anita! AN-I-TA! Eyes of my soul, is 
she daft, that one? An — i — ta! AN — I — I — 
TA!” 

^‘Fortune favors the daring.” Miguel’s 
horse Amador stood tethered near ; for, when a 
chance passer-by had reported meeting stran- 
gers presumably bound for Refugio, the man- 
ager had left the shearing-place and hurried 
homeward, to find there the most unwelcome 
gniests who had ever sought its shelter. 

*^Hola! Amador! That is good, yes. This 
jar grows heavy, and thy feet are swifter than 
mine ! ’ ’ cried Anita, and mounted. So daringly 
up and away — on Miguel’s own Amador which 
none but he must ride!. 


52 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

^ ‘ They have all gone mad ! ’ ’ shrieked Marta, 
while Miguel entered the kitchen and indig- 
nantly demanded: 

“Mother, what ails the women? First the 
little Carlota; I but whisper to her that which 
she should know and otf she flies, screaming, 
louder than I dreamed she could. Then comes 
Anita where she had no business, listens what 
concerns her not, and oft she races, likewise 
screaming. Now thou — if — what?’’ 

“The podrida — the supper, heart’s idol!” 
wailed the housekeeper, and her sorely tried 
son burst into a laugh, which she arrested by 
a gesture and the words: 

“ ‘He laughs best who laughs last,’ and that 
won’t be my Miguel, no. For the guests of the 
master to lose their supper, that is one thing, 
indeed; but what of Amador, no?” 

Now Amador was the delight of Miguel’s soul 
and it needed but this suggestion to send him 
doorward again. The horse was gone, and in 
fury he turned upon his unoffending mother : 

“Didst thou — didst — ” 

“Pouf! Is it I, Marta Cardanza, at eighty 
years, would mount that fiend, Amador, and 
ride away with a dangling jar of hot stew, yes? 


WHAT SERVES, SERVES 


53 


Such pranks suit not gray hairs, Miguel, son of 
my soul, no.’’ 

^ ^ But which way, mother ! How dared she 1 ’ ’ 

Marta shrugged her shoulders, answering : 

‘^Bah! Some maids are ever silly. ’Tis I 
think these strangers have foul-bewitched all 
Refugio, yes.” 

Yet there was a gleam of mischief in her 
black eyes as she pointed to where a vaquero 
was leading the beautiful horse that Mr. Rupert 
had ridden to the rancho. ‘‘Tit for tat,” she 
quoted in her native tongue. 

“Thanks, mother! That is good!” 

Then, even while Mr. Rupert came onward to 
mount, did Miguel seize the creature before its 
owner’s eyes and ride away as only a plains- 
man can ride. Instantly, the visitor turned 
upon his servant, like all the others — angry 
with the wrong person : 

“Boy, what do you mean by that? Where 
has he gone?” 

“How can I tell, Senor?” 

“Why did you let him take the horse?” 

“You had not so forbidden, Senor.” 

“Humph! I told you to bring him here — 
for me.” 


54 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘^Ten thousand pardons, Sehor. To bring 
him here, yes. For whom — that was not men- 
tioned.’’ 

There was no virtue in anger, so Rupert Dis- 
brow forced a laugh ; then looked up to find the 
youthful eyes of wrinkled Marta watching him 
with a keen amusement which plainly explained 
the affair. Crossing to where she leaned 
against the doorframe he lifted his helmet and 
asked : 

‘‘Madam, may I have a word with you?” 

“Many, if it so pleases the Senor.” 

He looked past her into the great kitchen, 
through which a swiftly rising breeze swept re- 
freshingly, and remarked: 

“It feels like a storm. Do they often visit 
this locality?” 

“Wlien the good God wills,” responded the 
old woman, piously. 

After all, she could see but little amiss with 
this stranger. He had a speech and manner 
which reminded her of her beloved, lost Dona 
Mary, though she knew that he could not be of 
that young mistress’s kin. 

He presently observed,, insinuatingly: 


WHAT SERVES, SERVES 


55 


^^That settle against the window, yonder, 
looks inviting.’’ 

^‘The veranda is cooler, yes.” 

^‘Then, by all means, let us sit there.” 

He certainly was courteous. No gentleman 
of old Castile could have been more deferential. 
He was fully equal in graciousness to Sehor 
Adrian, himself; and, after all — the podrida 
was gone! That charge the saints had taken 
off an old woman’s hands, yes. If there was 
no supper — Pouf! there was still bread in the 
buttery and fruit in plenty. With the master 
at home, there would have been fowls to kill 
and cook; yet — for this fair-speaking stranger^ 
Of that Marta was not so sure ; any more than 
she was sure of her regret for the lost podrida. 
In any case, she now willingly took the place 
upon the settle which the young man had earlier 
indicated. 

‘^Have you lived here always. Madam?” he 
began. 

‘‘Always, Senor.” 

“Then you must have known Mrs. Manuel.” 

“As my own soul, yes.” 

“Was she a happy woman?” 


56 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘^The angels in Paradise cannot be happier.” 

‘‘Yet she relinquished a great deal to come 
here with her husband, nor had she known him 
long.” 

“A day is a lifetime when it is soul of one’s 
soul,” answered Marta, now looking steadily 
into his inquiring eyes with such an expression 
that he abruptly terminated his cross-examina- 
tion. 

Returning to the present and his own per- 
plexities he said: 

“That man who rode off upon my horse 
seems to be a sort of ‘boss’ here, in Mr. Man- 
uel’s absence.” 

“In truth, yes.” 

“He declines the hospitality of Refugio to us, 
but my father is an old man.” 

“He should be thinking of his sins,” sug- 
gested Marta. 

“I can sleep out of doors, well enough, but he 
can’t. Besides, he is saddle-worn and can ride 
no further at present. What shall I do ? ” 

“I was never good at riddles, no. My head, 
it is quite stupid, yes.” 

“But you are a woman. You should be mer- 
ciful, and Refugio means ‘ succor. ’ Remember, 


WHAT SERVES, SERVES 


57 


please, he is old and he — knew your mistress.’’ 

She turned upon him sharply: 

^‘But I remember, also, that he has come to 
bring sorrow to her innocent little ones, yes.” 

^‘No! I tell you truly that you are wholly 
mistaken. Our errand is one of kindness, only. 
Provide us shelter for to-night and to-morrow 
I—” 

She interrupted him by rising and saying : 

‘^One may do what one will with one’s own, 
is it not? It is the House of Refuge. Bring 
the father. He is, indeed, too old for such a 
task as his; but there is still time. He may 
repent and depart before harm is done. I re- 
peat, it is the House of Refuge, and the sin of 
turning any beggar from its doors shall lie 
neither on the head of my beloved master nor 
on that of Marta Cardanza. There are rooms 
of my own, yes. In them — ‘the house is 
yours.’ ” ' 


CHAPTER V 


A LITTLE EXCURSION 

*‘Basta, enough! If some go snpperless to 
bed this night it shall not be the little ones! 
Vamos, Amador!’’ cried Anita, as she strug- 
gled to keep both her difficult seat and the con- 
tents of the jar. 

Now Amador was a horse of spirit, and, like 
his master, was called a ‘‘woman hater” ; there- 
fore, he resented the petticoat flapping against 
his side. Rearing, he pawed the air with his 
forefeet, tossed himself from side to side, and 
vigorously tried to shake otf the obnoxious 
skirt. 

“So? Wouldst thou? Vicious, like thy 
owner, si? Well, learn then! One day is as 
good as another to break thy will, and before 
thou wast born, imp, Anita was a horsewoman. 
Take that!” 

With an audacity even Miguel would not have 
shown, the excited girl brought the hot and 
heavy jar down upon Amador’s shoulder, and, 
58 


A LITTLE EXCURSION 


59 


instantly, he stood stock still, save for a pe- 
culiar shivering through all his frame which, in 
itself, would have warned Migmel of evil to 
come. 

Not inexperienced Anita. Her heart swelled 
with pride and mischief, as she jeered : 

‘‘Ha, ungallant! Thus easily subdued by a 
woman — a ivoman, Amador — Wouldst not the 
skirt? Then, take this for thy incivility and — 
forward!’’ 

Unwisely, she again lifted the jar and dealt 
the beast a second blow, and, already loosened 
by the violent shaking, the stopper fell out and 
the warm contents splashed over his neck. 

This was the last indignity which Amador 
could endure. With a spring he was off. The 
jar fell to the ground, broken, and for her life 
Anita now clung to the bridle. But he thrust 
his nostrils forward and jerked the reins from 
her grasp. Then she gripped him about the 
throat, half-choking him; yet the fire of his 
wild ancestors stirred within him and he did 
not stop for this. His wicked eyes glanced 
backward and seemed to ask; 

“Wouldst ride, Anita? Then ride thou shalt 
till thou art content!” 


60 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


She never knew how long that startling on- 
rush lasted. It seemed an endless progress in 
which, each moment, destruction menaced her; 
then, suddenly, she found herself in the middle 
of a mesquite bush, her clothing torn, her face 
scratched and bleeding, while the footfalls of 
the now free Amador swiftly died in the dis- 
tance. 

‘^Ha! But you shall sutler — sutler — ^vil- 
lain she cried, as soon as she could recover 
her breath. Then she tried to turn about, but 
each movement meant agony. Everywhere the 
sharp thorns of the shrub pierced her. To re- 
main was impossible — to extricate herself — 
Ugh! 

When, at last, she stood free upon the ground 
there was little in her appearance to recall the 
coquettish Anita. Yet, at that moment, a ring- 
ing laugh and mocking voice smote her ears : 

‘^So? But you are well punished for your 
impudence, fair mistress of the pans, is it 
not? My Amador is a horse of sense. I knew 
it!^' 

It was Miguel, who had urged Rupert Bis- 
brow’s ^‘Lady Jane’’ to its utmost speed and 
had arrived in time to witness the maid’s exit 


A LITTLE EXCURSION 


61 


from the mesquite spines, though not to aid her. 
Now, seeing that she was really suffering, he 
dismounted and added: 

‘‘But, in truth! I am sorry! That was a 
nasty trick of Amador — and I had esteemed 
him a gentleman!’’ 

Anita shrugged her torn shoulders, then 
groaned : 

“There are no gentlemen left at Refugio, no! 
Since the Senor — my master was kind — he 
would not jeer — ” 

Her voice died in a wail and Miguel ex- 
claimed : 

“Why, child, Anita! Hush, hush! There, 
there! So, so, my beauty!” 

“Pstit! I am not a horse — not Amador — to 
be soothed as a baby. He is — he is diahlo! 
and thou — ^his master!” she retorted. Then 
dropped her scarred face in her hands and 
again began to weep. 

Miguel hated tears worse than he hated 
women; and he laid his hand upon her arm, 
asking : 

“Why not believe that I am truly sorry? 
And, in the name of reason, why stole you the 
stew-pot as well as the horse?” 


62 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘^Wliyf For my children, souls of my life, 
indeed, yes.^’ 

‘Hf they so choose, can they not eat their 
meat in their father ^s house T’ 

Miguel Cardanza! Standest thou there 
and askest me thatT’ tragically demanded the 
maid. 

In spite of his best intentions, Miguel 
laughed. Poor Anita would also have laughed 
if she could have seen herself; and her anger 
slowly oozed away before his mirth. If he were 
in that cheerful mood affairs could not be so 
bad as she had fancied from what she had over- 
heard in the cloister. She determined to learn 
the real truth now, and asked: 

‘‘Miguel Cardanza, did you not say that these 
strangers had come to carry away our children ? 
Did you not forbid their man to help them in 
their fiendish task? Oh! I heard you, I heard 
you. And if the master’s ‘friend’ cares not 
whither he sent the frightened innocents, Anita, 
the humble kitchen-maid, has a heart of flesh 
and will follow to care for them. Even I, 
bruised by that vile Amador — Where are my 
children, Miguel Cardanza?” 

“Listen, Anita! If you shed more tears 


A LITTLE EXCURSION 


6S 

your face will be clean! If I sent the small 
ones away it was but for a moment, till I could 
speak to them more fully. Carlota is an angel. 
She knew not till I whispered her, that the hand 
she grasped so friendly had come to do her 
harm. Bah! girl! Your eavesdropping has 
wrought mischief this day!’’ 

As their tempers cooled they had resumed 
their ordinary speech, changing the ‘‘thou” to 
“you”; and now, also, the manager realized 
that he had acted foolishly and might have 
chosen a better way to protect his charges. He 
was vexed with Anita for putting such stress 
upon the children’s disappearance. Of course, 
they were safe somewhere near. What harm 
could possibly come to them except from the 
intriguing guests? It is natural to visit one’s 
own fault upon somebody else and the maid af- 
forded the readiest victim of Miguel’s self-re- 
proach. 

“I tell you, silly wench, you have wrought 
dire mischief. What is a mess of podrida to 
our children when the whole countryside is 
‘sanctuary’ for them. Are they not the little 
ones of the ‘Lady of Refugio’? Is her name 
not still a talisman? You should not have 


64f 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


scared them, yon! Nor lost me my priceless 
Amador — Y on — ’ ’ 

‘‘I? I — scare them? I, Mignel Cardanza, 
when I spoke not with them at all? Yon are 
mad, I tell yon. Everybody is mad this day, 
and as for that fiend Amador, may he never 
retnrn!’’ exclaimed the amazed and indignant 
damsel. Then drawing away from him, as he 
continned to help her pnll the thorns from her 
dress, she added; ‘‘No! aid me no more. 
Yonr conrtesy follows too close npon yonr rnde- 
ness to be valned. I mnst go from here ; bnt — 
how?’’ 

She began to be amnsed by the sitnation and 
regarded the angry man with a cnrions smile. 
There was bnt one horse, and that one already 
far spent. Mignel Cardanza had never walked 
a step in his life when riding had been possible. 
Anita examined her torn attire and wonnded 
hands, thongh these cansed her little pain now, 
since her yonng and healthfnl blood recovered 
swiftly from any hnrt. Yet now was a chance 
to test how trne a “gentleman” was the Senor 
Mignel Cardanza! 

Her langhing andacity nettled him and he re- 
marked, nngracionsly ; 


'A LITTLE EXCURSION 


65 


miles if iUs a rod. Must I walk? Can 
you? Well, then, bitter pills must e’en be swal- 
lowed. ’ ’ 

With that he swung Anita upon Lady Jane 
and leaped into the saddle before her, then 
goaded the doubly-burdened animal to its 
swiftest pace. In this fashion and in due time 
the ill-assorted couple appeared before old 
Marta at her kitchen door, and set that aston- 
ished person trembling and gasping at the ex- 
traordinary sight, Miguel and Anita, riding 
double! Indeed, and indeed! They had all 
gone mad that day ! 

‘‘Anita — the podrida — my son — ” 

During her return ride the girl had scorned 
to support herself by so much as a touch upon 
her cavalier’s belt, but she now coquettishly 
clasped his sturdy waist and sweetly answered: 

“Yes, Mother Marta, it is even so I bring 
back your little son quite safe. Yet I have suf- 
fered much, and it was that Amador who spilled 
the children’s supper and — Hark!” 

A shrill whistling sound silenced the words 
on her lips. 


CHAPTER VI 


THE NOETHER 

brother! We must ride fast, fast! We 
must not stop one single minute — if they should 
get us — ^why did our father go away!’^ 

‘‘Hush, little sister. Never fear. I am al- 
most a man. I will take care of you.’’ 

“Boys are not men; not even ‘almost’ men at 
twelve years. But — can they still see us from 
Refugio?” 

Turning, the child looked back. The trees 
and shrubbery about the venerable home they 
loved quite hid it from sight and the fact made 
her suddenly sad, so that she cried : 

“Suppose, just s’pose, we should never comei, 
back?” 

“Pooh! don’t be silly, girlie. Course we’ll 
go back, soon as the ‘enemies’ go away,” an- 
swered Carlos stoutly, though he was secretly 
troubled by the same thought. 

“What ever made them come?” 

66 


THE NORTHER 


67 


‘^Carlota! You told me that yourself: be- 
cause they were just — ^ enemies.^ 

“ ‘Enemies’ are wicked people, and I don’t 
see how anybody could be wicked to our father. 
Do you, Carlos?” 

“Oh! don’t ask so many questions. I am no 
older than you. I can’t answer them.” 

“You often say you are much bigger, you 
were ‘almost a man’ a minute ago. Doesn’t 
Benoni travel splendidly?” 

“Yes. But — ^where shall we go?” 

“Why, to the shearing-place, I s’pose,” she 
answered, doubtfully. 

“We can’t. They — anybody might come 
there. All strangers go everywhere that 
there’s things to see, like the shearing.” 

“Oh! dear! I wanted to see if our lambs, 
Santa Maria and San Jose, had been sheared. 
But the men would not dare, I think. But we 
must go somewhere, ‘to hide,’ Miguel said, and 
— what shall we do?” 

Carlos reflected; then observed; 

“I can’t think yet. I hate ‘hiding,’ any way, 
and on our own rancho from such polite gentle- 
men — I mean the Rupert-one was so. I feel 
sort of mean and sneaky, as I guess a coward 


68 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


might. You may be a coward, Carlota, but I’m 
not. I’ve a mind to go right home and order 
those men to leave. If they won’t, I can lock 
them up in — ” Here he hesitated and looked 
questioningly at his sister. 

^‘Lock them up — ^where, Carlos Manuel?” 

^‘You needn’t tremble. I haven’t done it 
yet.” 

Where could you lock them?” she sternly 
persisted. 

Carlos fidgetted, then said : 

‘ ‘ Girls ask so many questions ! ’ ’ 

‘‘And boys answer so few! You know that 
there’s only one place in all Refugio that can 
be locked. Our father never turned a key on 
his possessions. I’ve heard him say that. I’ve 
heard him say the whole world was free to use 
what he used except — our mother’s rooms. The 
key to those he took away. I saw him put it in 
his pocket and he kissed me when he did it. 
Carlos Manuel, would you put ‘enemies’ in our 
mother’s rooms?” 

Carlos evaded her piercing gaze, but an- 
swered, firmly : 

“It would be worse to keep them outside, 
where they could hurt our father and us, than 


THE NORTHER 


69 


to put them into places which nobody uses and 
where they could hurt nobody till they prom- 
ised to he good and go away.” 

^^Down in the inside of you, Carlos, you know 
that locking them up there would be the worst- 
est thing could be. DonT you?” 

^‘Yes, I s’pose so. I wish there was some 
other place.” 

‘^So do I. But, first, let’s go to our mother’s 
grave and think about it there. Maybe we’ll 
guess just what to do, and if we should be gone 
a long, long time — If we should never come 
hack at all — ” 

She began to cry hut the lad exclaimed : 

We ’ll never get anywhere if you cry all the 
time. I never did see anybody cry as much as 
you do. I wouldn’t be a girl for all New Mex- 
ico!” 

They turned Benoni toward the flower- 
decked mound and the pair knelt there for a 
little time, each praying after his and her own 
habit, and feeling vastly comforted by the 
peaceful beauty of that sacred spot. Then 
Carlos rose and went away, and Carlota called 
to him: 

‘^Brother, aren’t you coming back here?” 


70 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘^No, sister. IVe said goodby and now I 
want to go. I’m getting my things in the 
schoolroom.” 

Carlota would have liked to linger, but now 
joined her brother in the pretty glen beside the 
spring; and, while he wound his riata and 
thrust his hammer and knife into his sash, she 
secured the basket which old Marta had given 
them with their luncheon. Little of that was 
now left ; only a few scattered cakes, which she | 
carefully gathered again, thinking they would 
answer very well for supper, in case they did 
not arrive at ‘‘anywhere” by that tipie. She 
also slung her botany-box across her shoul- 
ders, which made Carlos inquire : 

“Why are you taking that! If we do get 
things we can’t bring them home to the gar- 
den. ’ ’ 

‘‘Well, you’re taking your hammer. If you 
can crack stones I can pick flowers. You know 
they’ll keep a week in my box, and we ought 
to be home long before that. If — ^we ever 
come at all!” 

‘‘We must first go before we can come. 
Where shall it be!” 


THE NORTHER 


71 


‘‘I know. IVe thought it out.’’ 

“Where, then, Carlota? Quick! Oh! how 
the wind blows!” 

^ ‘ To find our father. ’ ’ 

“We don’t know where he went.” 

“He went toward the north. He said he 
was going there. That was where his business 
led him. Our business is to follow and find 
him. He is ours. He belongs. We always 
do go to him in trouble, and aren’t ‘enemies’ 
trouble?” 

“I don’t know. Out here I feel braver, and 
not a bit afraid of those men. The old one, 
that jiggled his teeth up and down when he 
talked — that was the curiousest thing! like 
he’d borrowed somebody else’s — ^lie was real 
old and wizzly-up. That one — he couldn’t 
hurt a gopher ! The Mr. Rupert was so pleas- 
ant and — Carlota, I believe we’ve made a mis- 
take. They mayn’t be ‘enemies’ at all. How 
could anybody take us away from pur father if 
he wouldn’t let us go and there was everybody 
to fight for us? I believe that old Miguel — ” 
‘ ‘ Carlos, I — am — going — to — my — father. ’ ’ 
That settled it. Whenever small Carlota 


72 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

made a decision it was final; and uncertainty 
ended, the spirits of both rose. She now joy- 
ously exclaimed: 

‘^How jolly hefil be over us! I’ll take my 
little note-book, so I can put down all about the 
flowers and things we find. Father always 
teases me because I can so much easier forget 
than remember.” 

‘‘You might better take your grammar, I 
think!” gibed the boy, but she was not of- 
fended. 

Gently patting Benoni she called : 

‘ ‘ See him, brother ! How queer he acts ? As 
if he couldn’t bear to go away from us. Never 
mind, you darling. You aren’t going from, but 
with us, and that’s quite different. You didn’t 
think we’d leave you behind, did you, Noni 
sweet?” 

“Silly Carlota! Kissing a horse’s nose, 
But he does act queer, though, and I know why. 
It’s the wind. He hates it, and so do I. It — 
scares me.” 

“Now, who’s silly? I’m only a girl, but no 
wind scares me. I love it. Let’s mount now 
and ride, ride, ride! Fast and faster and 


THE NORTHER 


73 


fastest! Come. You’ve all you want and so 
have 1.” 

Running to opposite sides of the gentle Be- 
noni they clasped hands above his back and 
‘Hrick fashion” leaped to their places upon it. 
Their soft blankets were all the saddle they 
used, and with a gay ‘‘Yamos!” they started 
upon their search. 

^‘How he does go! He acts just wild, 
doesn’t he? And isn’t the wind getting terr’- 
ble cold?” asked Carlota, after they had ridden 
northward for some distance without pausing. 

Carlos glanced over his shoulder. His sis- 
ter’s teeth were chattering as she spoke, and 
he had to press his own tightly together to 
keep them still. But the fear which prevented 
his replying had already risen in her own 
mind and she added, brokenly: 

‘‘Dear, it’s a — ‘norther’! We’re caught 
in it. We — shall die. Refugio — let’s try — 
back — 

She had never been exposed to such a wind- 
storm, but he had once experienced something 
of it. In terror he now recalled that bad 
quarter-hour which his father and he had 


74 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


passed before they gained a shelter. There 
was now no shelter possible. They had stead- 
ily ridden away from every habitation they 
knew, straight over the plateau toward the 
‘‘north,’’ whither their father had vanished. 

But Carlos’s latent manliness now asserted 
itself. Benoni had become wildly terrified, 
yet the boy managed to pull from beneath him- 
self the blanket which was flapping like a whip 
and to order Carlota to put it around her. 

“I — can’t! I — I — am — so — cold!” 

He nearly lost his seat in struggling to do it 
for her, and then Benoni took matters into his 
own keeping. Swerving from the trail he had 
been following, he bolted due eastward, and it 
seemed as if he scarcely touched the ground 
with his speeding hoofs, that even his strong 
body was lifted and borne along by the blast. 

Carlos strained his vision to see, through the 
blinding storm of leaves and snow, that point 
whither the animal was hurrying with all his 
strength. But he could discover nothing and 
cried, in anguish: 

“ Oh ! my little Carlota, sister ! If you were 
only safe at home!” Then as her stitfening 
arm stole round his neck he added, consoling- 


THE NORTHER 


75 


ly: ‘‘But don’t you worry, darling! I’ll take 
care of my father’s little daughter!” 

But she was already past speech, almost 
past sutfering; and realizing this even the 
boy’s brave spirit succumbed and he let his 
head fall on Benoni’s neck, wondering if he 
were also dying. 

A few minutes later, the snow had covered 
them all with its warm blanket and the chil- 
dren lay beneath it, motionless, upon the back 
of their faithful horse, which feebly struggled 
on. Besides themselves there was no living 
thing upon that wide white plain ; for even the 
roaming cattle which dwelt there had vanished 
somewhere. Death stared the wanderers in 
the face, but they had already passed beyond 
consciousness of that. 


CHAPTER VII 


AT THE END OF SEVEN DAYS 

Mr. George Disbrow hated anything which 
interfered with his personal comfort. Also, he 
had ‘‘nerves’’ that, first and last, gave himself 
and his neighbors a deal of trouble. Like a 
caged creature he was pacing the refectory 
and, when his son Rupert entered, demanded: 

“Any news?” 

“No, father.” 

“Humph! You’ll go all to pieces yourself 
next. Have you had your supper?” 

“I — ^believe so. Yes — ^yes, indeed. I ate 
something a little while ago. It’s all right.” 

“I tell you it’s all wrong. We never should 
have come to this beastly hole.” 

“I certainly wish we hadn’t, but — under the 
circumstances — ^we are not the ones to com- 
plain. To please a crotchety old woman we 
did come, bringing disaster with us, and what- 
ever treatment we receive we have deserved.” 

76 


AT THE END OF SEVEN DAYS 77 

these people would organize a systematic 
search they might be successful.^’ 

‘‘They’re working on something better than 
system — upon an almost superstitious love for 
the dead ‘Lady of Refugio’ and her lost chil- 
dren, lost — through our fault!” 

“Nonsense! Through the fault of that im- 
becile Cardanza ! The fact of such a hot-head- 
idiot being left in charge proves just what sort 
of man this Adrain Manuel is, and how unfit 
to bring up even such stupid children as his.” 

“Father, please don’t. I never saw two 
more charming little ones, and even you ad- 
mired them, till they disappeared.” 

“Which shows that I’m right again. At 
twelve years, any American who possesses 
common sense should know better than to he 
frightened out of his father’s house by the 
fairy tales of a blockhead foreigner.” 

Mr. Rupert wearily smiled. His father had 
rung the changes on this sad subject till noth- 
ing new remained, and the son knew that a keen 
self-reproach pointed the venom of the old 
man’s words. He gently rejoined: 

“It’s been a difficult business for a difficult 
client from the beginning, and I never would 


78 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


have persuaded you to try a personal interview 
with this man Manuel, if I hadn’t believed that 
the trip here would benefit your broken health.” 

‘‘The fellow has been a fool to so stand in his 
own light!” testily commented the elder law- 
yer. 

“Once I thought so, too. Now I do not. I 
believe he is one in a thousand. His life is an 
ideal one and he made his wife supremely 
happy. She could have missed but little by 
what Mrs. Sinclair terms her ‘crazy elope- 
ment.’ ” 

“You grow enthusiastic.” 

“Who could help it? Witnessing how love 
has transformed this old adobe ruin into such 
a comfortable, even luxurious, home.” 

Mr. Disbrow snorted in contempt. Then 
pointed to the single candle burning in its silver 
stick, saying: 

“There’s your ‘luxury’! Now sit down in 
that rickety old chair and write to Mrs. Sin- 
clair. It must be done some time.” 

Thankful for any diversion, Mr. Rupert 
promptly obeyed, and the letter was barely fin- 
ished when Miguel stumbled in, so weary and 
heart-heavy that he seemed older than the an- 


AT THE END OF SEVEN DAYS 79 

cient Gaudalupo. There had been no white 
hairs on the major-domo^ s black head till within 
these last few, terrible days, and his once merry 
eyes were dull and lifeless. 

‘‘Miguel, you must rest. You are the head 
and front of all this search, and you dare not 
fail,^’ pleaded the young lawyer, earnestly. 

“I have failed, hopelessly assented this 
once fiery fellow. 

He no longer resented the presence of these 
strangers, these “enemies,’’ at Refugio. They 
had done their worst and by his own stupidity, 
his misguided zeal, he had aided and abetted the 
ruin they had wrought. He accused himself of 
being the lost children’s murderer, and was so 
continually engrossed by such self-reproaches 
that he was almost crazed. Indeed, he some- 
times prayed that he might become wholly so 
for then he would forget his misery. 

“Don’t say ‘failed,’ Miguel. I believe, I do 
believe, those children will be found, safe and 
well,” cried the other, unable to endure the 
sight of the manager’s anguish. 

“So do I. At — the Resurrection.” 

“Long before that. Upon this earth which 
they made lovely by their presence. Come. 


80 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


Take heart again. Pluck up your faith and 
courage. ’ ^ 

‘‘They perished in the storm, stolidly an- 
swered Cardanza. 

“We donT know that. We have found no 
proof of it.’’ 

“Neither do you know this country. The 
strongest cattle cannot live through a ‘norther,’ 
and my small ones were delicate, like flowers;” 
pointing outward toward ‘My Lady’s Garden,’ 
where were rows of limp, dead lilies and droop- 
ing heliotropes. 

“Yes, I see. But the little Carlota was no 
thin-blooded herb. Look again. There are 
many plants left unharmed and wonderfully 
green and fresh. Even of just such sturdy 
growth were the Manuel children. At will ac- 
customed to sleeping out of doors, to a cold 
plunge each morning, to an almost wholly out 
of door life, sun-browned and of perfect health 
— ^why, they are sure to he alive and thriving 
somewhere. Only — we haven’t yet looked in 
the right place to find them. But we shall. We 
shall.” 

Miguel’s face lightened somewhat and he said, 
quite gently: 


AT THE END OF SEVEN DAYS 81 


‘^Stranger, jou mean well, and you are a 
fine fellow — ^whatever yon man may be. But 
folks born fools can’t belp it,” be ended, with 
a significant glance toward tbe restless elder 
gentleman. 

‘‘That’s all right. Thank you. But, come. 
Let’s have some supper. I heard that wise 
mother of yours say that ‘ A full stomach made 
a light heart.’ A light heart should also give 
a clear head. Let’s try her proverb and see 
what it avails.” He held out his hand and 
Miguel took it listlessly. 

“One week, Senor Eupert. One week and 
two hours, since they rode out of paradise — 
into death I” 

At this, Mr. George Disbrow completely lost 
his temper and snapped out : 

“You’re all a parcel of numskulls I” 

“Father I” 

“Fact. Prima facie fact. If there’s supper 
to be had go get it. That old blubbering Marta 
has never cooked a morsel that ever I heard of, 
except that much-lamented podrida, which I 
still believe is a myth. Anita — ^well. I’ll not 
abuse her. Only for her we should all starve. 
She’s no cooh. Not by any stretch of imagina- 


82 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


tion can she be considered one, all pepper and 
spice — ’’ 

‘'Like herself!^’ suggested Mr. Rupert. 

“Like nothing fit to set before an eastern 
palate. Go get your supper. I Ve been looking 
over this map that Adrian Manuel made of this 
region and I find there are some habitations 
marked to the north of ns where other maps 
show a plain space. Indicates what sort of 
country it is when every mud-cabin has to be 
named as if it were a town. I think — Never 
mind. Go get your supper, if there is any. ^ ’ 

He was promptly left alone and as promptly 
regretted it. Whatever happened now, he was 
miserable. The refectory had been, by Marta ^s 
advice, given over to the use of and as a “cage” 
for “that ne’er-be-quiet Senor Disbrow, with 
the rattling teeth in his ugly mouth.” During 
all that memorable week just past, the unhappy 
gentleman had come in for all of the afflicted 
Marta ^s sharpness. Even Anita, who fancied 
that she had herself run the gamut of the house- 
keeper ’s abuse, acknowledged that not until now 
had she had “the pleasure of the acquaintance 
of that most amiable Senora Cardanza, no.” 

But now the dame had neither strength nor 



SHE STARTLED THE MAID 




AT THE END OF SEVEN DAYS 83 


spirit left to abuse anybody. She ate little and 
incessantly murmured her prayers, while she 
slept scarcely at all. Nobody had suspected' 
her of such deep feeling, but she declared to old 
Gaudalupo, who alone had time to listen that: 

Being thrice a widow might be trouble for 
some, yes. Yet not for Marta. I tell thee, 
Gaudalupo Sanchez, sorrow has not come near 
me until now. It is so. In truth. Soul of my 
life, Carlota! Where sleepest thou, my angel? 
To the shearing would she go, no ? Till I prom- 
ised I would not sing to my guitar with her 
away. For I can sing, yes, in truth. She will 
come if I sing!’’ A moment later she startled 
the maid, who was serving the supper, with her 
sudden cry. “Anita, Anita!” 

“What now, mother Marta? I am busy, I. 
Here is Senor Disbrow, and yonder is Miguel, 
of the heavy heart; whom I used to tease but 
only pity now.” 

“My guitar, Anita! Instante! Maybe she 
will hear it, our Carlota! Always it would 
bring her. Always. Quick! the guitar!” 

Ay de mi! Woe is me ! She has gone even 
more mad. Well, mad folks must be humored ! ’ ’ 
murmured the maid. 


84 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


A few moments later, the two men taking 
their food in the kitchen were startled by the 
notes of the antiquated instrument and the cu- 
rious, quavering song which accompanied it. 
Miguel, the son, shared Anita ^s suspicion, and 
cried : 

‘‘It is my mother! Her brain has now 
turned. Ah! it is hard when the old must die 
of grief. 

“Hark! That isn^t grief! That^s some- 
thing more — and different ! ’ ’ returned the girl, 
listening intently. 

For the song had abruptly ceased; been cut 
in two, as it were, by some sudden interruption. 

Mr. Rupert hurried outward as old Marta 
hobbled inward, and they met on the threshold, 
where, to the great peril of his eyes, she thrust 
a thorny agave leaf into his face and, pointing 
to it, gesticulated wildly. Also, she muttered 
Spanish so rapidly that even Anita couldn’t 
keep pace with half she said. At every few 
words she motioned toward the outer court — 
then hack to the leaf again. Evidently, she was 
frantically imploring Mr. Rupert to examine 
it; but he now, also, believed her crazed. 

It was the ancient Gaudalupo who finally 


AT THE END OF SEVEN DAYS 85 


brought reason out of this confusion. Without 
troubling to move his head or alter his feeble 
monotone he reiterated again and again; 

‘‘Before ink and paper was the Pueblos wrote 
on leaves. Before ink and paper was. Before 
ink and paper — 

“Hush! thou imbecile!” screamed Anita. 

“No, he’s not an imbecile! No, no! Far 
from it ! ” corrected Mr. Eupert, suddenly wav- 
ing the agave leaf above his head and fairly 
prancing in his glee. “.There is a message 
written here!” 

Whereupon Anita and “that crusty Miguel,” 
as she had used to call him, found it convenient 
to clasp hands and thus convince themselves 
and each other that they, at least, were sane. 
For, surely, this seemed a mad, mad world ! 


CHAPTER VIII 


BOTANIST AND MINEBALOGIST 

‘‘Brother!’’ 

“O, Carlota! Are you awake at last?” 

“Was I asleep? I — I was out in the storm. 
We aren’t riding yet, are we? Why is it so 
dark ? What does it mean ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ It means that our splendid Benoni has saved 
our lives. Saved our very lives, Carlota Man- 
uel ! A horse I Benoni 1 ’ ’ 

The little girl struggled to raise herself. She 
was strangely cramped and numb but there was 
a warm breath upon her face and, putting out 
her hand, she touched a velvety nostril. 

“Noni! You dear! But how funny! 
Seems as if we were all lying down together, 
Carlos.” 

“Yes. When I waked I was right against 
his neck,” answered the boy, gently stroking 
her shoulder, which he could only feel, not see. 

“Where are we? Is it night?” 

86 


BOTANIST AND MINERALOGIST 87 


‘‘I don’t truly know, but I think we’re in a 
cave, or some place under ground. I’ve been 
awake a long, long time. I thought you — ^you 
were — ” 

^‘Were what, brother? Hold me tight. I 
feel so queer. My head is whirling round and 
round. What did you think ? ’ ’ 

‘‘That, maybe, you were dead. And your 
head doesn’t whirl. How could it. Now don’t 
cry. You mustn’t, Carlota. You — must — 
not!” 

“I haven’t no intention, so there. Just be- 
cause I did once. I — besides, I promised not, 
didn’t I?” 

“Yes. You’re real good, little sister.” 

‘ ‘ Oh ! you dear ! That makes me feel better 
— almost straight-headed again. For it did 
whirl, Carlos, or it felt so. I wish I did know 
where we are. Is it always dark in caves, 
brother ? And do folks ever get out of them ? ’ ’ 

“Course. It’s not very high, and Benoni 
must be the most smartest horse there is in the 
whole world,” he answered, with an affected 
courage. 

“You didn’t say good grammar that time, 
ynurself, Carlos.” 


88 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


Never mind. I think we’re in a cave or 
covered up canyon that Benoni knew about and 
had seen sometime when he was roaming. Any- 
way, it’s a place he wouldn’t have come into 
except he was in trouble. A ’norther’ is trouble 
— dreadfullest kind. People and horses die in 
them, often. We must have gone to sleep on 
his hack and he crept in here with us and laid 
us all down together. He knew that way we’d 
keep warm. We did. I’m warm as pepper; 
aren’t youP’ 

‘‘I’m warm enough, but my clothes are all 
stiff, like they’d been wet, and I’m terr’ble hun- 
gry.” 

“So am I.” 

“Let’s try to get out and find something to 
eat. I had a few cakes in my box. Do you 
s’pose Noni rolled us off, or we rolled ourselves 
off his back?” 

“I don’t know. But we didn’t die, so we can 
still go on to find our father — when we get out 
of here. Let’s go now.” 

“Wait. We’ve got to give God thanks, first. 
’Cause it was He who made Benoni, a horse, 
have sense to save us alive. Do you hear me, 
brother?” 


BOTANIST AND MINERALOGIST 89 


He answered rather absently. He was as 
grateful as she but he had not only heard her 
— ^he had, also, heard something else: a dull, 
creeping sound from somewhere beyond them in 
this cavern. He hoped she had not noticed 
this and was glad when she stood up and 
stretched herself and, at the same time, 
stumbled against something which sharply 
rattled. 

^‘Oh! my box! My precious old tin box! 
For true, for true!’’ she cried. 

Already, they fancied they could see a little 
through this darkness and moved toward each 
other till their hands closed together upon the 
battered botany-box, which Carlota had always 
carried with her on her rambles a-field. In 
an instant she had opened it and joyfully ex- 
claimed : 

^‘The cakes! They are still in it! They are 
— they are!” 

^^Oh! Oh! Oh!” 

For the moment, their terrible hunger made 
them almost like wild creatures. Almost, but 
not quite ; for just then Benoni put out his nose 
and touched Carlota ’s arm. 

‘^[Wait, brother. You must. It was Noni 


90 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


who saved our lives and he’s hungry as we. 
He shall eat before I do ! ” 

‘‘Not before, Carlota! Oh! not before! I 
— can — ^not — wait!” 

Indeed, the boy’s voice had changed. At the 
mere odor of food his misery overcame him, 
for he had been awake much longer than his 
sister had and was, by that time, much nearer 
starvation. He frightened her, yet with infinite 
tenderness she drew his head upon her shoul- 
der and with her free hand began to feed him. 
Bit by bit, morsel by morsel — though, at first, he 
snapped his teeth so greedily he almost bit her 
fingers — she put the hollos into his mouth, coax- 
ing, the while; 

“Eat it slowly, brother. 'Make it last a long, 
long time, same as when we have Christmas 
sweeties. Now, wait a moment, and I’ll give 
one to Benoni.” 

“Not yet, Carlota ! I ’m first — another — just 
another ! ’ ’ 

He did not know how few were the cakes she 
had put into the box when they left the school- 
room and supposed there were plenty for all. 
She ignored her own hunger and managed to 
keep back two for Benoni and was even able to 


BOTANIST AND MINERALOGIST 91 


smile over the greater carefulness in receiving 
them from her hand the animal showed than 
the boy had done. 

‘^Look, Carlos. Benoni takes his cakes like 
a gentleman. He has — hasnT bited — bitten — 
me once. He’s nicer mannered than you, I 
guess; yet, you poor dear, you never had to 
eat your dinner in a cave before, did youT’ 

‘‘Another, sister?” 

“Oh! dear! It’s too bad, but there isn’t not 
another single one. Not even the least bit of a 
crumb for I’ve felt all around the inside of the 
box to see. Never mind, when we get out we’ll 
find something more.” 

The famished boy smacked his lips and asked : 

“Weren’t those the very nicest hollos Marta 
ever made?’ 

“I guess so,” answered she with a little gasp ; 
then hurried to add, lest she should betray that 
she had not tasted one; “Benoni thought so, 
too. There. He’s getting on his feet. Take 
care, good beastie! Don’t you step on Car- 
lota!” 

There was little danger of this, for he could 
see much better than they and he, evidently, 
felt it time to leave this prison house. He 


92 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


whinnied, shook himself, cautiously turned 
around, and began to pick his way past them. 
Afraid that he would leave them, the little girl 
begged : 

‘^Don’t go without us, Noni! Wait! You 
mustn’t be faster than we. Hurry, brother! 
I’ll take hold of his tail, and you take hold of 
me, and he’ll lead us out that way. Come.” 

‘‘We mustn’t leave our things here. There’s 
the box. Maybe, after all, there is another cake 
left in it that you didn’t find. Besides our 
blankets and hats, if we didn’t lose them.” 

“You must be quick then. He will go. He 
is determined. I’ll hold him back all I can, 
but — ” 

Then again sounded that strange creeping, 
and even Carlota heard it. So did Benoni. 
For he made a sudden movement forward, 
scraping his back as he did so, and began to 
climb the slope down which he had carried them 
to safety. 

“That’s a funny noise ! Guess there must be 
bats in here. Anyway it surely is growing 
lighter. Ouch! I keep stubbing my toes on 
sharp pointed stones or heaps of stuff. It looks 


BOTANIST AND MINERALOGIST 93 


as if it were all a white place. Maybe, it^s been 
whitewashed, same as Marta’s kitchen.” 

At that, Carlos made his sister pause. From 
what he had been taught by his father he 
guessed what the ‘‘whiteness” meant: 

“Oh ! Carlota, we’ve stumbled into the heauti- 
fullest cave ! It is ! I believe it ! These sharp 
points are stal-ag-mites. High up must be the 
other things — stal-ac-tites ! Father said he’d 
take me sometime to a cave almost as wonder- 
ful as that Mammoth one in Kentucky, and I 
do believe we’re in it now ! Oh ! how glad I am 
the ‘norther’ sent us to it!” 

“I don’t understand such big words.” 

“They’re no bigger than the ones you talk 
about your old flowers.” 

“My father says that real bo-tan-i-cal names 
are just the same all over the world. It’s best 
to learn them right in the first place, cause then 
you don’t have to unlearn them afterward.” 

“It’s just the same about stones. I couldn’t 
explain to you, Carlota, since you’re only a girl ; 
but knowing about stones helps about mines. 
If our father wasn’t a ge-ol-o-gist and a min- 
er-al-o-gist, the rich men away off wouldn’t hire 


94 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


him, as they do, to ‘prospect’ and explore their 
mountains. ’ 

“Flowers help, too. Course. It’s this way, 
Carlos. Try to understand. Funny! A boy 
who knows most every rock there is doesn’t 
know a dozen blossoms. Plants ‘talk,’ my 
father says, to people who have learned their 
‘language.’ The sort of plants they are shows 
what’s in the soil they live on. All plants can- 
not live on one soil. I — ” 

“Pooh! That’s a mistake, I guess. What 
about our mother’s garden? Any flower — ” 
Benoni ended their discussion by going for- 
ward again, after his brief rest. As they pro- 
gressed the light strengthened and they 
stumbled less; and in the relief of this, Carlos 
began to sing. But his song was interrupted 
by a cry which set them trembling in terror. 
“Ah, ho! Ah, ha, ho!” 

The shout came from behind them, and its 
echo through that ghostly place was very terri- 
fying. 


CHAPTER IX 


PABLO, THE DANCER 

It was due to its steep slope that Benoni had 
penetrated so far into the cave. To escape 
from the ‘norther,’ he had fled down it, stum- 
bling and forced to go forward, till he reached 
that level inner chamber where consciousness 
returned to the children. 

Now to reascend that narrow, jagged passage 
was almost impossible. Yet the same instinct 
which had guided him to safety remained with 
him as he crawled, struggled, twisted himself 
upward. The children clung to him, urged and 
pushed him, in their frantic etforts to escape 
whatever was pursuing them; for constantly 
nearer and louder drew that curious cry from 
the tunnel-like depths of the cavern. And, at 
last, when their force was almost spent — they 
found themselves in the sunshine ! 

The sudden light blinded them so that they 
clapped their hands over their eyes to shut it 
95 


96 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


out and even Benoni dropped his head and 
blinked at the ground. Then, all at once, that 
hoarse shout was in their very ears; yet, out 
there in the open, sounding much feebler and 
more human. 

Carlota opened her eyes and peeped through 
her fingers — stared — and hounded forward 
with an answering cry of delight : 

“Pablo, the Simple! Only our own Pablo — 
Pablo 1’^ 

The man stared hack at her in return, blink- 
ing at the light as she had done, till a smile 
spread over his dull countenance and he began 
to hop around her in that curious fashion which 
expressed his keenest pleasure. 

Carlos looked up and joined his recognition 
to hers : 

“Pablo, the Dancer! The Simple!’’ 

At a glance the reason of the latter nickname 
was obvious : the face of this middle-aged man 
had little intelligence, though there was a cer- 
tain craftiness in his small black eyes. He wore 
a blanket and the cast-off clothing of some 
ranchman, while his head was partially covered 
by a rimless straw hat. Around the hat was a 
faded red ribbon on which some rude jester had 


PABLO, THE DANCER 


97 


painted tlie legend: “Razzle Dazzle, the Dan- 
cer, ’ ’ and the fellow wore it as if it were a royal 
headdress. 

His present ‘‘dance’’ continued until he was 
tired ; then he held out his hand for an alms. 

“No, poor Pablo. I have nothing to give 
you. Our father isn’t with us. How came you 
here?” 

He muttered something which Carlos could 
not understand but Carlota’s sympathy inter- 
preted. 

“The storm? Yes, I know, we were in it, 
too. There! Don’t shrug your shoulders any 
more — you make me cold to see you ! Yet, you 
look well. I hope you aren’t hungry, Pablo, as 
we are.” 

“Ha!” He pulled a crust from his ragged 
pocket and otfered it to her; but it was black 
from contact with the dirty cloth and, faint 
though she was, she couldn’t touch it. She 
could only look enviously at Benoni, who had 
already nibbled a space in the grass. That, at 
least, was clean. If she could but eat it, too ! 

“No? H mm ; ’ ’ said Pablo, shaking his head 
in satisfaction and returning the crust whence 
it came. 


98 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


Then the girl asked: 

‘‘Pablo, can’t you show ns a place where 
there are berries? Remember the Sehor Man- 
uel, Don Adrian? He is your friend.” 

At the question a new expression stole into 
the beclouded face and, taking Carlota’s small 
brown hand in his dirty paw, he gently stroked 
it. All the good which had ever come into his 
life had come through “Don Adrian” and the 
dead “Lady of Refugio.” He remembered. 
Such as Pablo do not easily forget. Once — ^he 
didn’t know when — ^but he remembered, he had 
been very ill. The fever had burned in his 
veins and he had lain upon the mesa while the 
sun had scorched him to death. 

Then, in time, there had come between him 
and the sun the shadow of a kindly face. The 
face had bent above him and there had been no 
shrinking in it. Pablo was used to seeing peo- 
ple shrink away when he drew near. This 
brooding Sehor had not done so. He had put 
a wet cloth on the hot head — he had put the 
suffering “Simple” on his own horse — ^he had 
himself walked a long way. They had come to 
Refugio, to a great, white, cool room, where an 
“Angel” in a white robe had ministered to the 


PABLO, THE DANCER 


99 


sick one. Pablo bad recovered, but — the ‘‘An- 
geP’ bad died. 

Tbe poor balf-breed knew. He bad seen 
them put ber in tbe ground and plant flowers 
above ber. After that, Senor Manuel bad come 
and sent Pablo away. With money in bis 
grasping bands, with clean clothing upon bis 
deformed body, with all kindness and charity, 
yet still — away. Else, tbe ‘^Simple’’ would 
have stayed on forever in tbe cool, white rooms. 
But tbe sad-faced Senor could not bear that. 
Tbe sight of tbe wretched creature, whose life 
bad cost a life infinitely more precious, was too 
bitter. 

In some dim way tbe ‘^naturaP’ understood 
even that. So be went, sorrowfully but obedi- 
ently; and always thereafter, when be saw tbe 
master of Refugio riding across the plateau 
put himself out of sight. Yet, as tbe little chil- 
dren grew up, they were told about Pablo and 
their mother’s sacrifice for him and learned to 
regard him with a sacred interest and friendli- 
ness. 

After a moment’s apparent consideration of 
ber request, tbe balf-breed darted away, disap- 
peared in tbe ground, as it were — whence be 


100 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


soon emerged. This time his hands were 
heaped with food which even dainty Carlota 
could enjoy; nuts of more than one sort, with 
the fruit of an edible cactus, such as the chil- 
dren often and eagerly sought. 

Now, for a time, nothing was heard but the 
cracking of nutshells and the munching of sharp 
teeth; till, wholly refreshed, Carlos remarked: 

‘‘Well, I donT know how long we were in that 
cave, but it must have been all night. While 
we can, and it is daylight, I think we^d best go 
on. My little compass says that way, yonder, 
is north, and I do hope we’ll get to some nice 
place before it’s dark again.” 

“Wait a minute, brother. I’ve thought of 
something. Marta and Miguel and everybody 
may be worried, thinking about us out in a 
‘ norther, ’ and I ’m going to tell them we did not 
die.” 

“I’d like to know how? If we go back those 
men will be there just the same, likely. It was 
you Carlota Manuel, first said we should go 
to our father; and, even if you’ve changed 
your girl’s mind I haven’t changed my boy’s 
one.” 

“I haven’t changed the leastest littlest corner 


PABLO, THE DANCER 


101 


of it, so there. But, listen, Pablo. Will you 
do something for Don Adrian Manuel? Some- 
thing to prove you love him?’’ 

‘‘Umm.” 

When he nodded so emphatically, she caught 
her brother’s knife from the sash where it still 
remained and ran to a near-by agave plant, and 
cut one of its broadest leaves. Using its own 
thorn for a pen she carefully printed on its 
tough skin the few sentences following: 

‘‘The Norther didn’t Get Us. God and be- 
noni Took Care of us. we Cannot come Home 
Yet. Carlos and Carlota Manuel.” 

Then she placed the leaf in the Indian’s hand 
and looking closely into his eyes, directed : 

“Listen to me, Pablo. Listen the very sharp- 
est ever was and with no forgetting. Are you 
paying strictest ’tention?” 

“Umm.” 

“You must go straight to Refugio. You are 
to take this leaf to old Marta. You know her, 
well. She is the old, old woman who gives you 
bread and meat when you come stealing around 
and my father is away. You are to give it to 
her and nobody else. Who are you to give it to, 
Pablo?” 


102 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


Marta. She give Pablo chicken tamales. 
Umm. Good.’’ 

Before she could reiterate her instructions 
he had started. He held the printed leaf in 
both hands before him and steadfastly studied 
it. Maybe he had never felt of such import- 
ance ; and if his vagrant mind could have kept 
to one idea the precious missive would have 
soon been in the housekeeper’s hands. As it 
was, trifles attracted this unfortunate postman, 
and he had wandered hither and thither in pur- 
suit of them, till it was on the evening of that 
seventh day when he at length delivered it. 

Where, at that hour, were the little runa- 
ways? 


CHAPTER X 


A PICTURE m THE SKY 

The searching parties from Refugio and the 
neighboring ranchos had all gone east, west, or 
south. To the north lay an unbroken mesa, or 
plateau, having no shelter within a known dis- 
tance. Nobody dreamed that the children 
would follow other than familiar routes, and the 
first point explored was the ^‘shearing place,’’ 
belonging to Refugio itself. 

This was a cluster of adobe huts upon a little 
stream. It was four leagues distant from the 
Mission and, during the shearing, used as a 
folding for the sheep-bands owned by Mr. Man- 
uel, though at other times these browsed upon 
the plains or were driven into the mountains. 
It was to this folding that old Marta had said 
the lost ones were bound; and in looking for 
them there the first false start was made and 
the first valuable hours wasted. 

Further than this, had Pablo fulfilled his 
103 


106 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


we’d get into more trouble. He’s such a wise 
darling!” exclaimed Carlota. 

‘‘There goes another of a girl’s imaginings. 
I wouldn’t be a girl for — for anything!” 

“I like being a girl, so that’s right for both 
of us. Which way?” 

“North, of course. The compass tells. 
Wasn’t that the way we started?” 

“Yes. But I thought, maybe, the storm — 
there’s nice mountains over yonder,” suggested 
the sister. 

“Well, maybe, they’re far enough north. 
We’ll go to them. They do look as if they’d be 
cooler, and in mountains there are always can- 
yons and holes to sleep in. I wouldn’t mind 
sleeping on this mesa if it hadn’t been for that 
‘norther.’ If another should come.” 

“It won’t. They’re only in great whiles, you 
know. Make Benoni go. He’s lazy, the dear! 
He’s had too much grass.” 

Indeed the handsome creature did need urg- 
ing. He was loath to turn away from that di- 
rection in which his old home lay, and it was 
with a very different pace from his usual one 
that he again set forward. 

Then cried Carlota, in fear : 


A PICTURE IN THE SKY 107 

‘^Carlos, he isnT lazy! He’s sick. He 
surely is ! ” 

‘‘Nonsense! He needs encouraging, that’s 
all.” 

After a trick he had been taught by a horse- 
trainer, once resident at Refugio, the lad leaned 
forward and whispered in the animal’s ear. 
The ruse seemed to succeed. Benoni quickened 
his steps to his usual graceful lope, which jarred 
his riders no more than the swaying of a cradle. 
This movement was so natural and familiar that 
their own spirits rose. To a gay little melody 
which he had learned from Anita, Carlos began 
to sing: 

“We’re going to our father, oh! we’re going 
to our father, 

We’re going to our father on this happy, 
sunny day!” 

Carlota joined him to the best of her ability, 
though she had often to pause in admiration of 
his genius, which could work into the rhythm 
details of home happenings and even the things 
they passed by the way. He, also, thought his 
sister’s voice the sweetest ever heard; and thus, 
in their absorbed pride in each other they trav- 


106 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


we^d get into more trouble. He’s such a wise 
darling!” exclaimed Carlota. 

There goes another of a girl’s imaginings. 
I wouldn’t be a girl for — for anything!” 

like being a girl, so that’s right for both 
of us. Which way?” 

‘‘North, of course. The compass tells. 
Wasn’t that the way we started?” 

“Yes. But I thought, maybe, the storm — 
there’s nice mountains over yonder,” suggested 
the sister. 

“Well, maybe, they’re far enough north. 
We’ll go to them. They do look as if they’d be 
cooler, and in mountains there are always can- 
yons and holes to sleep in. I wouldn’t mind 
sleeping on this mesa if it hadn’t been for that 
‘norther.’ If another should come.” 

“It won’t. They’re only in great whiles, you 
know. Make Benoni go. He’s lazy, the dear! 
He’s had too much grass.” 

Indeed the handsome creature did need urg- 
ing. He was loath to turn away from that di- 
rection in which his old home lay, and it was 
with a very different pace from his usual one 
that he again set forward. 

Then cried Carlota, in fear : 


A PICTURE IN THE SKY 107 


‘‘Carlos, he isnT lazy! He’s sick. He 
surely is ! ” 

“Nonsense! He needs encouraging, that’s 
all.” 

After a trick he had been taught by a horse- 
trainer, once resident at Refugio, the lad leaned 
forward and whispered in the animal’s ear. 
The ruse seemed to succeed. Benoni quickened 
his steps to his usual graceful lope, which jarred 
his riders no more than the swaying of a cradle. 
This movement was so natural and familiar that 
their own spirits rose. To a gay little melody 
which he had learned from Anita, Carlos began 
to sing: 

“We’re going to our father, oh! we’re going 
to our father, 

We’re going to our father on this happy, 
sunny day!” 

Carlota joined him to the best of her ability, 
though she had often to pause in admiration of 
his genius, which could work into the rhythm 
details of home happenings and even the things 
they passed by the way. He, also, thought his 
sister ’s voice the sweetest ever heard ; and thus, 
in their absorbed pride in each other they trav- 


108 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


elled far before they realized how intolerably 
warm it was and how Benoni was again sorely 
lagging. 

‘‘Never mind. We’re almost to some little 
hills. There are trees on them and so there 
must be water. I guess a drink is what we all 
want.” 

“But, brother, we mustn’t drink him while 
he’s warm,” warned Carlota. 

“I shan’t drink him warm or cold, silly child! 
But now we’ve thought of it, aren’t you dread- 
ful thirsty?” 

“Terr’ble. If it’s there, I’ll fill my tin box 
with the water when we go on again.” 

“Maybe we won’t go any further to-day. I 
wonder how far we are from Refugio!” 

The boy regretted his words as soon as ut- 
tered, for his sister turned and looked backward 
over the sun-beaten plain in such a homesick 
way it made his heart ache. His head also be- 
gan to ache and he made Benoni take a right- 
angle course to that they had been following. 
The trees were directly in their line of vision 
now, and Carlota cried : 

“Oh! they’re only a little bit off now!” 

He was wiser in plain-lore and answered : 


A PICTURE IN THE SKY 


109 


‘‘They may be ten miles. The air’s so clear 
one can’t tell.” 

“Oh, brother! Why, they look as if I could 
almost touch them !” 

“I know that, dear! If it weren’t so — awful 
^hot!” 

Suddenly Benoni stopped, as if he had come 
to the end of his strength. Surprised and 
frightened, the children leaped down and ex- 
amined the jaded beast, while Carlota sobbed: 

“We shouldn’t ought to have made him 
‘carry double’ in this heat. We’re so terr’ble 
big now-a-days, Carlos.” 

“Yes. I’m afraid we’ve been pretty self- 
ish. After he saved us, too!” admitted the 
lad. 

“His head’s the hot place. Wait. I know 
what Miguel does sometimes, when he’s afraid 
Amador has overheated himself.” 

With that she began to break and bruise the 
leaves of an herb growing near, saying : 

“I don’t know if they’re the right sort, but 
they will he wet and cool. If his head aches, 
like ours, they may ease it.” 

“How will you keep them on? Miguel takes 
a big handkerchief or a strap.” 


110 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


your sash is just the thing. You can 
put your hammer and knife in my box till we 
get the water. There. I’ll do it. I’m a girl. 
I know how to make it stick.” 

But she had to remount in order to reach the 
animal’s head and when she had finished she 
thought that Benoni looked very funny, indeed. 
She laughed : 

‘^He makes me think of an old woman in a 
cap ! ’ ’ 

‘‘He looks sort ashamed of himself, doesn’t 
he?” 

Yet, after a few moments, it was evident that 
the beast felt refreshed by the cool application 
and Carlos exclaimed : 

“Good! If it’s helping him it will be nice 
for us, too.” 

“Then I’ll bruise a lot and we can put them 
in our hats and walk to the hills. I shall not 
ride poor Noni another step till he gets well.” 

This simple craft, of the crushed leaves, was 
of infinite value to the straying children, who 
sturdily pressed forward toward the moun- 
tains — though these seemed to retreat rather 
than draw nearer. After they had been walk- 
ing for a long time, till they were almost ex- 


A PICTURE IN THE SKY 


111 


hausted, Uarlota stopped and clapped her hand 
to her eyes, exclaiming: 

‘^Oh! I see things! Houses, and trees, and 
queer, rushing wagons! Water, too! Water, 
water! But they’re all upside down — they are 
all coming out of the sky — ^head first ! ’ ’ 

Carlos had seen such strange ‘‘pictures in 
the sky” when he had been a-field with his 
father and understood what she meant. 

“A mirage — that’s what it is, just a mirage. 
Which way? Maybe I can see it, too.” 

She pointed out the curious thing and the 
lad studied it attentively, then explained: 

“I know what those queer wagons are. See? 
They are leaving the houses — they are going — 
going — away. They are like the pictures in 
the books, when you hold the page wrong side 
up. They are — railway — cars — and — an — en- 
gine!” 

“Will they come here and hurt us? Like 
those other pictures of the accident in the 
newspaper ? ’ ’ 

“Pooh! No. They are a long way off, and 
cars can run nowhere except on a track made 
for them. A track, try to understand, Carlota ! 
is a pair of iron or steel rails laid on the 


112 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


ground. The car and engine wheels are fixed 
on these rails and so they move.’^ 

Carlota wrinkled her brows, then said: 

“The way you tell it isn’t very — very under- 
stand-able. But how long is the pair of rails, 
brother ? ’ ’ 

“Hundreds and thousands and, maybe, mil- 
lions of miles. All around the whole world, I 
guess.” 

She could not believe this statement. At 
first, she thought he was merely teasing her by 
its boastfulness, then feared that the heat had 
turned his brain. Maybe her own had been 
touched by the sun, too. Maybe there wasn’t 
any picture in the sky. And oh! how thirsty 
she was I She turned toward Benoni, and 
cried : 

“Why, brother! See how rested Noni 
looks ! ’ ’ 

“Yes. But^ — ^you don’t act as if you felt very 
well yourself. Are you sick, too?” 

“I guess not. Only, do you s’pose we might 
ride just a little way, now, Carlos ?’^’ 

“We must. I’ll help you on him.” 

“Not ’less you do, too.” 

Another moment, and they were both back in 


A PICTURE IN THE SKY 


113 


their old places on the horse’s hack and he ap- 
peared to have acquired a new strength. He 
lifted his grotesquely bandaged head, whinnied, 
worked his nostrils, and started forward at a 
swift pace. Then, clinging to him and to each 
other, they dropped their heads and went to 
sleep ; and it was Benoni’s stopping which made 
them again open their eyes. 

‘‘Oh! Water! Oh! Water — rocks — trees — 
berries — berries — ^berries ! How good, how 
good!” fairly shouted Carlos. 

At last they had reached the hills! and, at 
once, all three of the weary pilgrims had their 
mouths in the little stream which ran among the 
rocks and were drinking deeply of the saving 
water. 


CHAPTER XI 


FRIENDS IN NEED 

Thus refreshed, they all^ — even Benoni — 
dropped upon the grass which bordered the 
stream and again fell asleep; and it was the 
horse which first awoke. The neighing of one 
of his own race aroused him and he made an 
effort to rise ; but, with a pathetic appeal in his 
great eyes, sank back upon his side. Another 
moment and the neighing, accompanied by hu- 
man voices, was close at hand. A mustang’s 
head was pushed through a break in the scrub 
and a shout followed the head : 

‘‘Here we are! Yo-ah-ho! Water ! Water !” 
Then the shout was checked by the exclamation : 
“What in the name of — redskins! Indians — 
Wh-e-aw!” 

] By then, Carlos had sprung up and, in the 
daze of first awakening, was staring at the in- 
truder. He did not know that it was his own 
peculiar attire that had suggested “Indians,” 
114 


FRIENDS IN NEED 


115 


and he had never as yet seen a hostile red man. 
But the tone frightened him. He seized Car- 
lota and forced her to her feet, while beside 
them lay poor Benoni, unable to arise. Thus, 
for a time, the twins stood, motionless, clasping 
each other, with their terrified expression slow- 
ly changing to delight as they gazed at the sev- 
eral men in uniform who now approached them. 
All were horsemen and some were leading in- 
stead of riding their thirsty beasts. 

^‘Soldiers!’’ whispered Carlos to his sister, 
and she smiled. 

Often she had heard her father talk of the 
‘‘brave soldier boys’’ who kept those wide 
plains safe from the unknown tribes of sav- 
ages; and her smile revealed to the foremost 
cavalryman that he had not now to deal with 
the child of a detested race. 

“Hello, there! Where in the world did you 
come from, papooses?” 

The question was asked with a smile so kind 
that Carlos laughed as he answered: 

“We aren’t papooses. We’re regular white 
Americans.” 

“Well, you don’t look it, with that brown 
face! Where do you come from?” 


116 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘We came from home, Senor,^^ answered 
Carlota, because her brother was now absorbed 
in watching the other cavalrymen and heedless 
of the question. 

“So ho! Well, where is ‘home^T’ 

“Refugio.’’ 

“Hello! Hel-lo! That so? I’ve heard of 
that rancho. It’s a long way from here. Where 
are the others of your party?” still queried 
the officer. 

“There isn’t any others.” 

“What’s that? No others? Only you two 
kids?” 

“Beg pardon, Senor Soldier, but we’re not 
kids. We’re children, just regular American 
children. We only wear kid-skin clothes, cliar- 
ros; ^ that’s all. Because our father says it is 
the very comfortablest and best dress there is 
for children who live as we do. We’re almost 
always out of doors, you see, and in these things 
we are ready for any fun that’s going.” 

“I should think so, indeed, or for any busi- 
ness, either. Your father is a sensible man, 
that’s as plain as a pipe-stem. I’ve heard 
about him. Where is he?” 


1 Garments. 


FRIENDS IN NEED 


117 


^^Oh! have you, Sehor Soldier? But that’s 
what we don’t know, what we’re trying to find 
out.” 

The gray haired officer sat down and drew 
the little girl to his knee. The action was so 
gentle and fatherly that it banished her slight 
self-control and flinging her arms about his 
neck she sobbed: 

‘‘Oh! you dear sir! Won’t you help us find 
him? We thought it would be easy, but he is 
so far, so very far away ! ’ ’ 

“There, there, little lass! I’ll do my best, 
surely. I’m a soldier, you know. It’s my busi- 
ness to help little maids when they need help.” 

Carlota instantly stopped crying and kissed 
the grizzled Captain upon his stiff moustache, 
saying : 

“I knew it! The very minute I looked into 
your eyes I knew that you liked little children. 
We’re not so very little, you know, but I guess 
we’re little enough to be liked.” 

“I reckon so! But what was there in my 
eyes that told you that about me?” 

“A twinkle. Folks who don’t love little chil- 
dren never twinkle their eyes.” 

“Well, well, you observant small woman. 


118 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


Yet you guessed right. Vve a little miss of my 
own, away back in the east, getting educated to 
come out and help her old daddy, by and by. I 
shouldnT like to have that young daughter right 
here now, in this particular spot, if she didn’t 
have any ‘others’ with her. Begin at the be- 
ginning, tell me your whole story, and make it 
short.” 

The Captain motioned for Carlos, also, to 
join them, but the lad remained standing and 
watchful. He was not as sure as his sister that 
these strangers were friends, for what Miguel 
had said about the Disbrows had altered his 
faith in life. He feared that it might be a sol- 
dier’s duty to arrest runaway people and he 
preferred to be on his guard. 

In the simplest, clearest manner possible the 
girl told their brief history, and when she had 
finished, the cavalrymen grouped about the lit- 
tle spring had gained a very vivid picture of 
the far-famed Refugio rancho. Then said the 
Captain : 

“Thank you, my dear. That was excellently 
told; but, if I had a chance, I’d send you 
straight back to your deserted home — or the 


FRIENDS IN NEED 


119 


nearest guard house! I’m afraid you’ve done 
a mighty foolish thing.” 

She looked so puzzled that he continued: 

Those gentlemen were not your ‘enemies,’ 
hut your friends. They came to offer you a 
kindness, and there’s one thing I’m going to 
teach you in this other outdoor schoolroom, a 
lesson of military discipline, and that is : The 
first duty in life is obedience. I put it with a 
capital 0. Say it after me, so you’ll never for- 
get it: ‘The first duty of a soldier is Obedi- 
ence.’ That lesson fits little girls even better 
than it does my lads, here.” 

She repeated the time honored maxim, but 
added : 

“I’ll remember; yet I don’t see how I’ve dis- 
obedienced any.” 

“Wasn’t it you who proposed this runaway 
escapade?” 

“It was I who decisioned about going to our 
father. We are going, too,” proudly. 

“Of course, you little Eve! Still dabbling in 
that same old apple business, hey?” 

Everybody except Carlota laughed, and a 
brother soldier asked: 


120 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘Say, Captain, isn’t that rather deep for a 
New Mexican baby!” 

“Probably, Lieutenant, though the princi- 
ple’s the same. If she hadn’t proposed this 
wild-goose-search, her brother wouldn’t have 
thought of it. But she did; here they are; 
country full of Apaches ; now — what can we do 
with them?” 

Carlos hotly interposed: 

“You needn’t do anything. We’re not 
afraid. We know lots and lots of Indians. 
None of them would hurt us. If Benoni is 
rested we will go on, right away.” 

“Good enough, lad! There’s the making of 
a soldier in you, and I hope you’ll go to the old 
Point some day. As I remarked, if I hadn’t 
far more serious business on hand I’d send you 
back to Refugio, under a military escort. As 
it is — Little girl, are you hungry?” 

Two or three of the men had begun to eat 
their rations at a short distance from their 
superior officer, and he saw the child watching 
them. This reminded him that he would, him- 
self, be the better for food. 

“Oh! I’m all right, thank you. We had 
something to eat — once.” 


FRIENDS IN NEED 


121 


that so? I did, too, but I^ui ready to eat 
again/’ 

He gave a wordless command and the soldiers 
prepared a little woodland feast which the 
young Manuels never forgot. It was army fare, 
rather stale and hard, but it was as manna in 
the wilderness” to the famished children. 
Watching them, the cavalrymen prolonged their 
own meal and, in another sense, also shortened 
it ; for the twins ate as if the supply were inex- 
haustible and, as the Sergeant observed: 

‘‘No tollin’ where you’ll he when you’re hun- 
gry next time!” 

“Time’s up!” called the Captain, and sprang 
to his feet. 


CHAPTER XII 

THE END OF A NOBLE LIFE 

Carlos and Carlota also rose. They did not 
know what these new friends, who had met and 
fed them, wonld do, bnt they felt that they were 
not yet to part company. The Captain set- 
tled it: 

‘‘Youngsters, I’m on the ‘war path,’ and I’ve 
tarried too long already. Since to leave you 
alone would be worse for you, you’ll have to 
take the chance of trouble and go with us.” 

He was vexed and stern. He hated the 
charge of two children upon his hazardous 
chase after the troublesome Apaches, whom he 
was determined to punish if he could meet 
them. 

“If it comes to a fight between the redskins 
and us, ‘the boys around the monkey’s cage had 
better get away,’ ” remarked a subaltern to his 
neighbor. 


122 


THE END OF A NOBLE LIFE 1^3 


The Captain overheard and grimly smiled. 

‘‘Master Facetious may desire to ‘get out of 
the way’ himself.’’ Then to the children : “Do 
you both ride one horse?” 

“Yes, Senor Gray Moustache, our Benoni. 
But he acts terr’ble queer.” 

“Sergeant, see what’s up with the beast.” 

Saluting, the man replied : 

“Captain, I reckon it’s all ‘up’ with him.” 

“What? You don’t mean it! That adds to 
the charm of the situation. Not a led horse in 
the squad. Not even a mule.” 

The perplexed officer hurried where Benoni 
lay upon his side, piteously gazing upon his 
young mistress. In his eyes was a sure intelli- 
gence. He knew perfectly that the march was 
to be resumed — and not by him. In that cav- 
ern down which he had slipped and stumbled 
during that dreadful “norther,” and out of 
which he had struggled by an almost impossible 
effort, he had received some mortal hurt. He 
could not tell them his agony. He could not cry 
out, as a human would, but he could and must 
beseech them — ^not to leave him! 

As yet, Carlota did not understand. She saw 


124 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

that her beloved horse was loath to rise and she 
bent over him with a jesting reproof which 
strangely moved her hearers. 

^ ^ Come, Noni ! You darling, old, lazy fellow ! 
Come. We’re going now.” 

More than one soldier smiled at her trustful- 
ness in themselves, yet sighed to think she was 
there. She was a brave little thing, yet brav- 
ery counts for nought with a maddened redskin. 
They had found traces of the Apaches and knew 
they had struck the right trail. A conflict was 
inevitable. But Carlota only knew of her 
horse’s distress, as she cried: 

‘‘Benoni, dear! Darling Benoni! What is 
the matter? Can’t you, won’t you, get up? 
I’ll walk all the way. So will Carlos. But we 
can’t leave you here. You’ll have to come, too. 
You’ll feel better, by and by. With all these 
nice, nice horses to keep you company. Not 
alone any longer, Benoni. Lots of horses, 
Noni.” 

The listening officers exchanged glances. 
They could not further delay. On account of 
these children they had already lost valuable 
time, and to waste more, because of a pet horse, 


THE END OF A NOBLE LIFE 125 


would be impossible. So the Captain laid his 
hand on Carlota’s shoulder, saying: 

^^My little girl, we must go now. Your pret- 
ty beast will have to stay. Bravely say good- 
by to him and come.’’ 

‘‘Good-by^ To Benoni Manuel I Alone in 
the woods ! Why, you must be — you must have 
forgotten that Benoni saved our lives!” 

‘‘And so lost his own, my dear.” 

“But he hasn’t lost it. He’s alive.” 

“Scarcely. Very soon he will have passed 
away.” 

Carlota’s heart felt very queer. She turned 
faint. When she loved anything — and she 
loved most things — it was with all her soul. 
Hitherto, death had meant nothing to her; but 
now, looking into the sober face of her new 
friend and the appealing eyes of her pet, the 
sadness and finality of it struck her like a blow. 

She went down upon the ground and tried to 
lift Benoni ’s head upon her knee, but she could 
not, it was too heavy. Yet she could and did 
throw her arm over his neck and press her wet 
cheek to his delicate nostrils. 

“Benoni! Benoni! The‘Good’I Youmustn’t 


1^6 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


die — I canT bear it! I cannot. Carlos, come! 
Maybe be ’ll hear yon if he doesn’t me. Come, 
come quick! He never disobeyed ns, never. 
He won’t now. But say it sharp, brother. I 
can’t. Tell him to get up. That we’ll take him 
home. We will. We’ll let the other go. 
Straight home — ^if only — ” 

Carlos knelt beside her. Both had now be- 
come oblivious of the soldiers’ presence. Their 
first great sorrow had them in its grip. Though 
their mother had died they had been too young 
to know her loss. Their father had left them, 
for a time, but he would return. Yet this re- 
lentless thing which was stealing Benoni — how 
could they bear it? 

Silence closed about the central group. A 
horse is more to a cavalryman than to others, 
and the Captain stood with bent head, eager to 
be away, yet loath to disturb the sacredness of 
that moment. The young subaltern, whom his 
superior had dubbed ‘^Facetious,” felt a 
strange pain in his throat. Till then the raid 
had been a ‘‘lark,” a something to break the 
monotony of camp life. Full of enthusiasm 
concerning his first skirmish with the redskins, 
the possible outcome of the atfair had not en- 


THE END OE A NOBLE LIFE 127 


tered Ms mind. Suddenly, he seemed to see his 
mother’s face. As that noble Benoni was dying 
in the wilderness so might he die — that very 
day. 

All at once Benoni groaned and desperately 
tried to lift his head. His eyes brightened, his 
ears bent forward, his whole attitude was that 
of intent listening. He was frontier born and 
bred. He had been in a deadly conflict between 
white men and savages, and he had not forgot- 
ten. Horses never forget that which has terri- 
fied them in their youth. Something too faint 
for ears not sharpened by agony was on the 
air. Would those whom he loved hear it in 
time? 

‘^Noni! You precious! You are trying to 
tell us something ! What is it, my pretty 
beastie? Oh! you brave, beautiful fellow! I 
cannot remember when you weren’t always 
with us. You must not, must not die now ! ’ ’ 

Poor Noni ! It was useless. They would not 
be warned. He could serve them no further. 
His dumb, silent life had been one long example 
of duty faithfully performed. His virtues had 
been many, his faults few. He had been well 
loved and he had loved much. He had done 


128 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


what he could and he would sleep now. His 
glazing eyes fixed on the face of his little mis- 
tress, but she could not see his parting gaze 
because of the tears which filled her own. 

Just then, while the deeply moved old Cap- 
tain stooped to raise Carlota to her feet, the 
sanctity of the forest death-chamber was in- 
vaded. 

‘ ‘ Sw-w-ish ! ’ ’ 

Something whizzed swift and sharp between 
soldier and child, grazing his shoulder and her 
blond curls, and buried itself in the herbage a 
dozen feet away. 

It was the arrow of an Apache I 


CHAPTER XIII 


. BY THE captain’s OKDERS 

Toward sunset of that same day the little 
squad of cavalry was slowly crossing the plain. 
It would not reach camp that night and was 
watchful, though not expectant, of assault. 

‘‘I reckon the redskins had all they wanted 
for this particular time!” exclaimed the lad 
who had longed for battle, till he had seen Be- 
noni die, and afterward had dreaded it. How- 
ever, the whizzing arrow had as promptly ban- 
ished the dread, for it had barely escaped the 
breast of little Carlota. From then he had 
fought like the born hero he was, and his Cap- 
tain was now regarding him with a grave smile 
of approval. 

‘^Yes, but not for long. There was sin in 
their eyes. We shall have work and plenty of 
it.” And, after a moment, the officer spoke to 
the girl who rode before him on his horse: 

1.^9 


150 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘'I’ve a word or two to say to you, Carlota. I’d 
better say them now, before — ” 

“ Oh ! Sehor Captain ! will they come again ? ’ ’ 
she cried, in terror. “'Where can we go? It 
is so dreadful!” 

“I go wherever my duty calls. What to do 
with you is the question. At present, I can 
neither take nor send you to the fort. It’s too 
far. A little way to the north of us is the rail- 
road. One of its stations should be in our di- 
rect line of march, and if we reach it, if all goes 
well, I will leave you children there.” 

“Shall we see any more Apaches?” 

“Humph! You’re not so fond of Indians as 
you were, eh?” 

“I never saw that kind before. Many, many 
have been to Refugio, but they’ve always been 
good.” 

“We soldiers believe that the good Indians 
are all dead.” 

“Already, Sehor Captain Gray Moustache?” 

“Well, there hasn’t been a cataclysm to swal- 
low them, as I know. There, don’t stare; but 
if ever you come in the neighborhood of a dic- 
tionary look that long word out. ‘ Gray Mous- 


BY THE CAPTAIN’S ORDERS 131 


tache’ will bother you no more with a humor you 
don’t understand.” 

“I understand — some, dear Sehor. And I 
didn’t mean that name for harm. I always do 
name people something like them till I know 
their regular one.” 

‘‘Indeed? Wish to be properly introduced, 
do you? Well, my name is Sherman. But I 
like my nickname and, please, don’t look so like 
a scared kitten. It’s never so bad but it might 
be worse. The old Padres named that spot 
we’ve left behind us the ‘Spring of Happiness’ 
in the ‘Mountains of Flowers.’ We found it 
so, too.” 

“Why — where — Benoni died?” she asked, re- 
proachfully. 

“Exactly. Where we didn’t die. Where 
several of the tricky skunks who would have 
killed us in ambush were not permitted. The 
greatest regret I have is that, though he is 
past feeling wounded pride, we were obliged 
to leave your noble horse in such vile company. 
There were a half-dozen dead Apaches in the 
glen when we left it, and a half-dozen white men 
so much the safer.” 


132 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


When they had again proceeded in silence for 
some distance, Carlota asked : 

‘‘Don’t Apaches go to railroad stations? and 
do they keep children at them?” 

“Under the circumstances, yes, to the last 
question; and to the first — there’s little dan- 
ger. There are too many trains passing. If 
only, you midget, you were safely at home ! ’ ’ 

“I will be, some day, after we find our fath- 
er. ’ ’ 

“After all your experience, haven’t you 
dropped that crazy notion yet? You are a 
child of ordinary common sense, I hope, Car- 
lota.” 

“Yes. That’s why I don’t see what else 
there is to do hut to go on.” 

“If a person does wrong I never heard that 
it was wise to keep on doing it!” said the wor- 
ried Captain, testily. 

“Have I done that?” asked the child, really 
astonished. 

“I call it wrong to make trouble and anxiety 
for a great number of people, as your running 
away from home must have done. Even for 
me, of whom you never heard before.” 

Carlota wriggled herself aside. 


BY THE CAPTAIN’S ORDERS 133 


will get right down, Senor Captain.” 

“You’ll do nothing of the kind. Remember 
what I’ve said, and I’ll scold no more. I will 
leave you two at the station. I will have tele- 
grams sent east and have an advertisement put 
in the leading newspapers of the country. If 
the news comes to your father, as it probably 
will, and certainly should, your troubles will be 
over. He’ll attend to the rest. This is what I 
mean by your causing me trouble. I shall do all 
this, not because you had any right to put it 
upon me, but simply for humanity’s sake. 
Now, next time you are tempted to act foolishly, 
stop and think if you’re going to worry any- 
body else with your silliness. That’s all.” 

It was the sure end of the severest lecture 
Carlota had ever received, and the worst of it 
was that she felt she deserved it. She could 
only say that she was truly sorry and resolve 
to “do a lot of thinking next time before she 
did any acting.” Then she added, as a bitter 
memory was stirred: 

“I begin to understand that if we hadn’t run 
away from Refugio our Benoni wouldn’t have 
died.” 

“Not so fast, little girl, toward that conclu- 


134 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


sion. The issues of life and death belong to 
God. We have no concern with them. Our 
business is to do right, as nearly as we can, and 
— now let^s try a canter!’^ 

At that moment a trooper rode up and 
saluted. 

The Captain gave permission to speak and 
with a surprised attention, listened to the oth- 
er’s few words. Carlota tried not to hear that 
which was not intended for her and was sadly 
startled when her ‘‘Gray Moustache” gave her 
a hasty kiss on the tip of her nose and said: 

“That’s for good-by, my child. I learn that 
to take you to the station myself would carry 
me far out of my way, for my first duty now 
is at camp. I will write some directions on a 
leaf from my notebook and enclose some money 
with it. You must give it to the station master, 
the telegraph operator, and he will attend to the 
matter. Good-by, and a prompt reunion with 
your father!” 

To lose this soldier, whom she had regarded 
as her own especial friend, seemed a terrible 
misfortune, and her eyes filled as she felt her- 
self set upon the ground, while, with his squad 
about him, the Captain loped away. Then she 


BY THE CAPTAIN’S ORDERS 135 


saw that Carlos was beside her and, also, that 
two troopers had been assigned to their escort. 
However, the faces of these men had neither 
the sternness nor the quizzical pleasantry of 
their commander’s. They were the faces of 
those detailed to perform a troublesome duty 
while their own desires were elsewhere. 

^‘Bouton, you take the girl and I will the 
boy.” 

‘‘All right.” 

One horseman caught up Carlos and one Car- 
lota, and, without another word, rode oft like 
mad across the plain. They handled the twins 
very much as they would have handled bags of 
meal, and they took a direction at right angles 
from that followed by their commanding officer. 

Carlos’s temper flamed and he opened his lips 
to remonstrate against such contemptuous 
treatment, but remembered the Apaches just in 
time to restrain his hot speech. It wouldn’t 
do to anger his guardians then and there, and 
he did not know that they would not have dis- 
obeyed the Captain’s orders to vent their own 
spite. Thus they traveled for what seemed 
hours. Then they came, all in the starlight, 
to a strange place where were two shining 


136 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


things laid flat along the ground and the light 
of a lamp showed through the window of a soli- 
tary shanty. 

The cavalryman who carried Carlota dis- 
mounted and struck his saber against the cabin 
door. After a brief delay this was opened by 
a rough looking man, who held a candle above 
his head and was speechless from astonishment. 

The troopers saluted and said: 

“By Captain Sherman’s orders, these chil- 
dren are to be left here until further notice. ’ ’ 

The twins were promptly deposited upon the 
ground, where they clasped hands and tried to 
realize this new thing that had befallen them. 
Before they could do so, their military escort 
had again saluted and disappeared in the dis- 
tance, leaving them to make the best they could 
of their forlorn situation. 


CHAPTEE XIV 


A FIRST RIDE ON THE RAILWAY 

‘‘Come in by!’’ at last said the man in the 
doorway. 

The children silently accepted the invitation 
and entered a bare little room, to be instantly 
startled by a yell of dismay from their new 
host : 

“Injuns! Injuns! Apaches! The Saints!” 

“We are not Indians!” retorted Carlos, in- 
dignantly. 

“Och! is it sol” gasped the man, much re- 
lieved. “But it’s wearin’ their clo’es ye are. 
Did they catch ye and rig yez like that! And 
did thim soldiers catch ye back out of ’em I” 

Despite his roughness, the man had a simple 
and timid speech, and the boy replied by a brief 
account of their adventures, ending with the 
question : 

“What are you going to do with us now?” 

137 


138 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


^‘As sure as me name’s Dennis Fogerty, that 
thing I don’t know.” 

^‘Do you live herel” 

‘‘Live, is it? Faith, nobody lives nowhere 
in this haythenish land.” 

As no reply followed this assertion, Dennis 
strengthened it by adding: 

“It’s livin’ I’ve not done since I left Conne- 
mara, an’ that’s the truth I’m tellin’ ye. This 
station of ‘Leopard’ has give up. The folks 
what run it has moved on a peg, to the station 
beyant. ’Tis with them I stays when I stays 
anywhere. But it’s mostly workin’ the track 
all alone I am, barrin’ Mike Grady and a hansel 
o’ ‘Greasers’ to help. It’s lonesome as sin, so 
it is. Moreover — ” 

Of his own accord, there seemed no jjrospect 
of Dennis’s pausing, so Carlota interrupted: 

‘ ‘ The Captain said we were to wait at the sta- 
tion till we were called for by our father. Is 
this all the place there is?” 

“Stay here, is it? All by your lone?” 

— don’t — ^know. Is it the railroad? Are 
those shiny things outside the rails? Do the 
trains come to-night?” 

“Sure, yourself is a girrul, now ain’t ye? 



"THE CAPTAIN SAID WE WERE TO WAIT" 



1 



A FIRST RIDE 


139 


By the questions ye put all to once. Let’s take 
’em in turn an’ find out.” 

The face of the lonely track-walker now shone 
with delight at his company and, as soon as he 
had heard Carlota speak, he recognized that 
she belonged to a higher social class than his 
own. He pulled his forelock when he addressed 
her and his manner was both respectful and 
j)rotecting. 

^Hs it the railroad f ’Tis that same. Are 
the rails the rails'? They be. Do the trains 
come to-night? Why not? Same’s every oth- 
er. But it’s not for a train I do be waitin’. As 
I was a-sayin’, the folks that lives here doesn’t. 
They’ve moved down to the next station on 
‘Tuttle,’ more by token there’s more good 
wather for fillin’ the ingines an’ drinkin’, 
whilst here the bottom’s dropped out. Was a 
well sunk, one o’ thim artaysians, same’s all 
down the track, yet somethin’ or ’nother pumps 
it out down below, as fast as it fills an’ faster. 
So, says the Superintendent, says he, to Misther 
Burnham, says he: ‘Take the traps of your 
misthress an’ childer’ an’ go there,’ says he. 
So they went, a week maybe; an’ ’twas I just 
stepped back here, the night, to look for me 


140 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


shovel that’s lost. I’m abidin’ a hand-car will 
be along, by and by; an’ I’m thinkin’ how Mike 
’ll be starin’ at a couple o’ Injuns, for passen- 
gers on it.” 

^^But we must stay here, right here. The 
Captain talked a deal about ‘Obedience,’ and 
his orders were: ‘Stay.’ So we must,” said 
Carlota, firmly. 

“But, sister, there is nothing to eat and no- 
where to sleep!” protested Carlos, who had not 
himself been “lectured.” 

“There is the floor. And we can find some- 
thing to eat — to-morrow. We need only just 
sleep, till then.” 

“An’ it’s not here ye’ll try it!” returned 
Dennis, indignantly. “What’s a Captain more 
nor a manf” 

“He’s a soldier. A gentleman. He knows.” 

“He knows nought. He isn’t the ‘Super’, is 
he? He hasn’t the charge o’ the railroad same 
as of soldiers an’ Injuns.” 

The discussion was closed by a rumbling 
sound, which grew steadily louder, and made 
• Carlota clasp her brother’s hand. He, also, 
looked toward Dennis with a new fear, almost 


A FIRST RIDE 


141 


as great as her own, till he saw the trackman’s 
face beaming with satisfaction. 

There she comes, alanna! An’ I’m mindin’ 
the face o’ Mike, me friend, when I trots the 
pair of ye ont an’ he sees ye, first off. Here’s 
me shovel — that’s right; an’ me pick, that I’ll 
maybe need an’ maybe no. Ye see, it’s up an’ 
down the road I goes an’ it’s botherin’ to know 
where’s handiest to be leavin’ me tools. How- 
iver — step out lively now, whilst I shuts to the 
door.” 

‘ ‘ Who is ^ she ’ f And I must not go, nor must 
Carlos!” declared Carlota, with decision. 

‘‘Sharrucks! Out with ye, ye purty, silly 
girleen 1 Stay here, is it, alone? To be scalped 
by the murderin’ Injuns? An’ is Dennis me 
name? Out with ye. Be a duck of a colleen 
an’ bother no more. It’s the car, I tell yez, an’ 
she’s all but come to the door. I’m thinkin’ it 
may be the worse for us all if we hinder her, 
for ’tis a single track an’ big Number Nine’s 
about due. If we’re to meet up with a bed this 
blessed night, it’s be ready we must when Mike 
slows her up.” 

Carlota shrieked and darted back toward the 


142 


CARLOTA OF TPIE RANCHO 


shanty, for at that moment there came into sight 
a low, rapidly moving thing which seemed to 
threaten them with instant destruction. But 
Dennis slipped his strong arm around her, 
saying: 

‘‘Sure, little misthress, ’tis nought but a 
hand-car will take us to supper an^ bed. Fear 
nought, fear nought.’’ 

“Is it far to this ‘Tuttle’ place?” asked Car- 
los, now more excited than alarmed. 

“A matter of a dozen mile, belike. Hi ! Here 
she be ! Hello, Mike ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Hello, Dennis ! Who ’s them ? ’ ’ 

“Injuns! Didn’t ye hear them Apaches was 
makin’ fresh trouble the now!” 

“Quit foolin’, man! If ’twas redskins ye’d 
got, ’tisn’t Dennis Fogarty ’d stand there, grin- 
nin’ that gait. On with ye and your company, 
wherever they come from. I’m long behind an’ 
Number Nine overdue,” returned the other, not 
easily duped. 

Then Carlota was swung to the little platform 
car, her brother beside her, and the men were 
working the handles which propelled it over the 
rails. For a moment or two, the children felt 


A FIRST RIDE 


143 


as if they were being hurled to ruin; then the 
sensation of flying exhilarated them, and they 
cautiously looked about them. 

Isn’t — it — wonderful! Will it — run otf — 
the rails?” whispered Carlota. 

But nobody heard her; though a little later 
Carlos put down his head and halloed in her 
ear; 

‘‘I should like to ride like this — forever!” 

She did not answer, save by an ecstatic 
squeeze of his hand. Then all at once, she 
caught sight of a dark object lying on the 
ground, which they whizzed past and left be- 
hind. After another short distance, a similar, 
uncanny, motionless body; and her heart sank 
drearily. These were the carcasses of dead 
cattle which had been too ignorant to get out 
of the way, had been slain by passing trains. 
In fresh terror she hid her face on her broth- 
er’s breast and waited for her own direful end. 
Then on and on, till it seemed she could not 
endure the agony of suspense, and thought : 

‘‘I’d rather be killed quick — quick — than wait 
— this way!” 

But, at last, with a little jerk the car came to 


144. CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


a standstill and Dennis cheerily called out: 

‘‘Misthr ess Burnham! Hello, Jack! Go tell 
your mother, lad, to come see the fine present 
I’m after bringin’ her. A pair of young pa- 
pooses, to he raised along with yez all!” 


CHAPTER XV 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 

As the trackmen and their charges stepped 
into the little circle of light made by one kero- 
sene lamp nobody spoke. The Indian-like at- 
tire of the young Manuels deceived the Burn- 
ham household, till the mother’s gaze rested 
upon Carlota’s face. Then she comprehended 
that here was a child of white parentage, nor 
of a class common to the plains, and exclaimed : 

“You poor little creature! Come in, come 
in!” 

As the little girl looked up she, also, realized 
that here was somebody different from old Mar- 
ta and the lively Anita. The woman’s face was 
thin and worn but showed refinement, as did 
the modulations of her quiet voice. 

“She speaks like our father,” thought the 
wanderer and, impulsively, flung her arms about 
the stranger’s neck. 

The embrace was cordially returned. 

145 


146 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘My child, you have found friends. Wher- 
ever you come from you are safe with us. Come 
into the house, all of you. Come.’’ 

“That settles it!” commented a boyish voice, 
and somebody laughed. “What Ma says, goes. 
But where in the name of — ” 

“Jack, my son!” 

“Yes, ma’am,” with a mock humility. 

“Take care of your tongue.” 

“Ma, that’s too big a contract, without your 
help. But, who are you, anyway!” he de- 
manded, turning to Carlos, who had become 
adept in telling his story; and who had now 
scarcely finished it when there came a rumble 
and jar which startled the Manuels, and sent all 
the listeners to their feet. 

“The express!” 

Another moment and all had hurried to the 
outside platform, to watch the incoming train, 
Carlota and her brother with the rest. These 
two were greatly excited and, as before, the girl 
was terrified. Perceiving this, Mrs. Burnham 
drew the child to herself, saying : 

“Don’t tremble so, my dear. It cannot hurt 
you, and, if you had lived long in this desolate 
region you would welcome every train that ar- 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 14T 

rives as a blessed link between you and civiliza- 
tion.’’ 

So Carlota tried to conquer her fear and 
stand quiet, while the great ‘‘Overland” with 
its dazzling headlight rolled up to that tiny sta- 
tion on the plain. Yet, even when it stopped 
and the passengers began to step out of the 
curious carriages, that they might stretch their 
stiffened limbs in a momentary walk, she shiv- 
ered before the monstrous thing as before a 
Juggernaut which must crush her if she moved. 

Then she heard greetings exchanged between 
those who had arrived and the station-master’s 
family. The boy. Jack, was hail-fellow-well- 
met with strange men in blue- jean suits, much 
begrimed by soot and oil. He even caught a 
flaming light from the hand of one and went 
bobbing about beside the cars, looking at the 
wheels and tapping them with a little hammer, 
as if he were in charge of the whole affair. 

The trainmen jested with him, asking: “Is 
she all right, lad!” “When are you going to 
join the crew. Jack!” and so on. Dennis was 
here, there, and everywhere; and Carlota was 
sure that, at all times, he was rehearsing her 
own story till, presently, she found herself sur- 


148 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


rounded by staring strangers in a most un- 
pleasant way. 

Tuttle was a water-station and the trains de- 
layed there longer than at most other points. 
Over in front, where the engine puffed and 
breathed like a living monster, some men had 
dropped a big, canvas pipe from a huge, high 
tank, over whose sides the water was splashing 
wastefully. The little girFs thoughts flew to 
her mother ^s garden and the care with which 
each drop was there hoarded and expended. 
Then she heard, as in a dream, all the staring 
people talking, as if she were deaf and could 
not be offended. 

^‘Apaches.’’ ‘‘Fight in the mountains.’^ 
“Escaped with their bare lives “Wonder 
if we’ll be attacked!” “Left here by the cav- 
alry. Will be shipped east to their friends.” 
“Captives all their lives.” “Father an Indian 
chief. ’ ’ 

Her head was dizzy. She could but dimly 
feel that these remarks concerned her brother 
and herself; that they were as untrue as pos- 
sible ; and that she had no strength left to cor- 
rect them. Then she saw another woman’s face 
bending close to her own. One of the many 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


149 


faces which had come down from the car, as 
the water was coming down from the tank yon- 
der. Like the water, the faces were wasting 
themselves in vain. She wished they could be 
stopped. Especially, she wished this last 
woman would go away. She was old and she 
spoke in a shrill, cracked voice. 

^‘Indian captives, are they! How interest- 
ing! IVe crossed the continent a dozen times 
before, yet these are the first amusing Indian 
relics IVe ever seen. Apaches, eh! Decidedly 
thrilling. I wish — ’’ 

‘‘A-1-1 A-b-oar-d!” 

Slowly, the great pipe swung back to its own 
place on the tank. The blue- jean figures, with 
their flaring torches, climbed into the already 
moving train. The curious passengers hurried 
to their sections,’’ to dream of hold-ups and 
an Indian outbreak. Once more the heavy, jar- 
ring rumble filled the whole earth ; then gradu- 
ally — swiftly — completely passed away. Upon 
that platform in the wilderness there was once 
more left but a handful of people to face the 
night alone. 

Carlota’s tired, excited brain was full of vis- 
ions ; and Carlos clasped his hands in a momen- 


150 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


tary despair for tliat far off House of Refuge, 
whose safety he had so unwisely left. Alas! 
the world was not that always, brilliant, sun- 
shiny place he once had fancied it, and a sob 
rose in his throat. 

^‘Come on! my White- Around- the-Gills- 
Young-Brave!’’ cried Jack, bringing his hand 
down with a ringing slap on Carlos’ shoulder. 

‘‘Take care!” 

“That’s what I’m doing. It’s getting near 
midnight and I expect you’ll have to share my 
lofty chamber. So, march, propel, come along, 
vamos! For an Indian, you’re the slowest — ” 

The word died in its utterance. A blow, as 
well directed as it was unexpected, settled upon 
Jack’s wide mouth with a force that sent him 
staggering backward. 

Carlota instantly rallied from her half-swoon 
of fatigue, and screamed : 

“Carlos! Carlos! My brother! Boy — boy 
— go away!” 

She would have rushed between the combat- 
ants had not Mrs. Burnham, though herself 
vastly astonished, restrained her ; while Dennis 
flung himself into the business, hot foot. 

“Go it, gossoons! Faith, the little one’s the 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


151 


better one! Och! Jack — tbaUs a silly blow! 
The little one ! THE LITTLE ONE ! ^ ^ 

So crying, be hopped and pranced about the 
little platform, in high glee, and, presently, 
found it too small to accommodate his rising 
spirits. 

Here’s to ye, Mike, me friend! Sure it’s 
the nate night for wrastlin’. So it is, so ’tis. 
Now, isn’t that the purty sight? Eh? an’ ye 
would, would ye? Come on then! I’m for 
ye!” 

When Mr. Burnham emerged from the tiny 
office, wherein he arranged his business con- 
cerning the passing trains, he found the lads 
in a fierce scuffle at the very threshold while, 
on the ground outside, rolled Dennis and Mike 
in a frenzy of contest, yet that was, moreover, a 
perfectly friendly and familiar one. 

In the ‘‘ould counthry,” both trackmen had 
been famous wrestlers and had won prizes at 
their parish festivals. Therefore, in this new 
land, they lost no chance to keep themselves in 
practice, and now stood up to shake hands with 
the best of good nature. 

Faith! That was a fine one, Mickey, me 
boy. Thanks to ye!” cried Dennis, the victor. 


152 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘The same to yourself, Mr. Fogarty. If 
there’s one thing out of Ireland I likes more 
nor another, Tis a good wrastle with a neighbor, 
betimes.” 

“Yes, I know, I know. Clears a man’s head 
betther nor a Sunday o’ sleep. Let’s turn in 
now, Mr. Grady, an’ leave the misthress in 
peace.” 

So, with their arms about each other’s shoul- 
ders, in a fashion beautiful to see, the late bel- 
ligerents departed toward a small outbuilding 
where they slept and, in an incredibly short 
time, were oblivious to all the world. 

Then directed Mr. Burnham : 

“Follow their example, lads. Go to bed, and 
no more nonsense.” 

For an instant. Jack and his guest regarded 
each other, then both sheepishly laughed — 
which astonished the wide-eyed Carlota even 
more than their brief fight had done. 

“That’s all right, little girl. They’ll be good 
friends now. Boys often begin their acquaint- 
ance by a ‘scrap,’ test one another that way, so 
to speak,” explained the station-master. 

“I never saw him do such a dreadful thing be- 
fore. Never — never — never! I — I — it’s a 


GETTING ACQUAINTED 


153 


mis ’able world! And I wish — I — was in — my 
own — Eefugio!” wailed Carlo ta. 

In her heart, Letitia Burnham echoed that 
wish, but aloud she cheerfully said : 

‘‘It’s a pretty good world, after all, my child. 
But come, you poor, tired dearie. I’m going to 
put you to sleep in my very own bed; and to 
show you the prettiest sight in the wide west — 
I think — ^nay, I am sure ! ’ ’ 

Wondering what this might be and how any- 
thing very lovely could be in that dreary place, 
Carlota sleepily followed her new friend to the 
inner room. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE NEXT MORNING 

When Carlos awoke he saw Jack standing in 
the middle of the small room where they had 
slept, trying to put on his own kid jacket and 
this absurd attempt of an overgrown youth to 
squeeze himself into a garment several sizes 
too small was so absurd that the watcher gig- 
gled. 

^ ‘ Hello, you ! Laughing at me, are you ? I’d 
like to know why?” 

^‘You can’t get into that. Besides, I want 
it myself.” 

“Can’t have it. It’s become the property of 
Burnham and Co.” 

“Is it time to get up?” 

“Past time. Too late for breakfast.” 

Jack said this so gravely that Carlos was dis- 
turbed, though he lingered to stretch himself 
thoroughly and to look curiously around the 
154 


THE NEXT MORNING 


155 


chamber. Save the shack at which he had been 
dropped on the evening before it was the barest 
place he had ever seen. Even a sheep-herder’s 
hut had more of convenience about it, but he had 
gone to bed in the dark without observing this. 
After the manner of lads, the pair had long lain 
awake exchanging confidences, until Mr. Burn- 
ham’s voice from somewhere had warned them 
that there must be silence. 

‘^Oh! dear! I wish morning hadn’t come so 
soon!” 

‘‘Mid-day, you mean. Near dinner-time. 
Where ’d you get this jacket, anyway? I’d like 
to shoot a red man and steal one for myself. ’ ’ 

“Why don’t you, then?” 

Jack ceased struggling with the garment and 
whistled. 

“Humph! You’re ‘sassy,’ too. But come 
on. Get up. Here. The mother has been in 
and says you are to put on these.” 

Carlos sat up and stared at the outfit which 
the facetious Jack held toward him. It con- 
sisted of a blue-jean costume, similar to that 
worn by the trainmen, save that this was clean, 
if faded, and was one Jack had outgrown. 


156 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘Nonsense!^’ 

^^Her name is Letitia, if it’s Mrs. Burnliam 
you’re mentioning.” 

Carlos sprang up and put on liis stockings 
and moccasins, but failed to find his leggins. 

want to dress. What have you done with 
my clothes?” 

told you the truth. My mother has them. 
Wait. She shall speak for herself. Mother!” 

^ Wes, Jack!” 

‘Msn’t this boy to put on my old clothes? He 
says he won’t.” 

^ ‘ Dear lady ! I never ! ” he cried, indignantly, 
to the person without, who answered, promptly : 

‘Wor the present, Carlos, it will be better if 
you wear the things I left for you. After 
breakfast I will explain. I’m going to cook it 
now, so please don’t delay,” returned the voice 
from without. 

i i There, J ack Burnham ! You ’re an untruth- 
ful boy!” said Carlos, indignantly. 

‘ ^ Hold on ! That ’s serious ! ’ ’ 

‘‘Breakfast isn’t over.” 

“It is. Dennis and Mike had theirs two 
hours ago. I saw them go by the window. 
They stopped to look in and shake their fists 


THE NEXT MORNING 


157 


at you, ‘friendly like.’ They’re good wrestlers, 
the pair of them. Between us we’ll give you 
plenty of exercise. Hello! Who’s that wants 
to come in? Why?” 

“To see my new bruwer.” 

“Who is that?” asked Carlos. 

“That — is the future Governor of New Mex- 
ico. Or President of the United States. Teddy 
Burnham — ^here you are ! ’ ’ 

With that he admitted a dark-headed little 
four-year-old, very short and fat, and whose 
brown eyes were the sharpest possible to a child- 
ish face. This youngster planted himself firmly 
just within the room and ordered : 

“Boy, come here, Teddy wants to see you.” 

The stranger laughingly obeyed. 

“So you are Jack’s brother, eh?” 

“Yep. I like the girl to you.” 

“That’s good. Most i3eople do. She’s much 
nicer than I am. ’ ’ 

“Yep.” agreed the child, unflatteringly. 
“Now talk Injun.” 

“I don’t know how. Say Jack, I cannot wear 
these things !” holding up the overalls and mak- 
ing a funny grimace that sent Teddy into a 
paroxysm of laughter. The effect of his *remark 


158 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


was so unexpected that Carlos, also, laughed, 
and not to be outdone. Jack joined in the mirth. 

‘‘Isn’t you d’eadful!” shrieked the baby 
“Governor,” and then they all laughed again. 

This served the purpose of putting everybody 
on good terms ; for, despite their confidences of 
the night, daylight had found the lads secretly 
shy of one another. Now they coolly faced and 
scrutinized each other. What Jack saw, we 
already know; save that Carlos, clad in the 
rough clothing of a workman, had lost some- 
thing of his refinement of appearance, while he 
had gained in manliness. What Carlos saw 
was an overgrown lad of fifteen, shock-headed, 
freckled, with arms and legs two sizes too large 
for his width of chest. A face that was brimful 
of fun and good nature, honest, gray eyes, and 
a mouth wide and upturned at the corners over 
strong white teeth. 

Yet, although he instantly liked him, Carlos 
had a feeling that one could place little depend- 
ence upon Jack. As he afterwards expressed 
it to Carlota: “A fellow anybody could make 
to do anything that was pleasant but nothing 
that wasn’t.” 

When they were dressed. Jack opened the 


THE NEXT MORNING 


159 


door and pointed out the bench beside the wall, 
where a tin basin and one coarse towel served 
the needs of the entire family’s toilet. 

“I see. Thank you. But isn’t there any 
stream near?” 

‘‘Stream? No. Not by a long shot. What 
you want a stream for?” 

“Why, for my bath.” 

“Are you so dirty? Anything the matter 
with you that you must wash yourself?” 

His face dripping from its plunge in the small 
basin, the guest looked up, surprised. 

“Nothing the matter, except that I haven’t 
dipped — all over — since I left home and I’ve 
ridden miles and miles. Of course, I’m dirty. 
How could I help being?” 

Jack whistled. 

“Whew! Is that the kind of a fellow you 
are? Well, then, the sooner you get over such 
namby-pamby notions the better. This isn’t 
any place for a ‘tenderfoot.’ ” 

“I’m not a ‘tenderfoot’. I’m a born West- 
erner. But it’s neither decent nor healthy not 
to keep your body clean,” retorted Carlos. 

“It’ll be healthy for you not to put on any 
‘frills’ here, my Young-Fuss-and-Feathers ! 


160 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


And there’s Ma calling us to breakfast. High 
time, too. I ’m hungry enough to eat hay. ’ ’ 

Carlos, also, was hungry; and anxious about 
Carlota, who had been so tired on the previous 
night; so he hurried into the house. This had 
but three rooms. The larger was the living 
room of the family and the waiting place of 
what few passengers ever entered it. A small 
desk, where Mr. Burnham kept his accounts, 
was in one corner, and a table, covered by an 
oilcloth square, was in the middle. 

A girl ran forward from behind this table and 
clasped Carlos in her closest embrace. For a 
moment, he did not recognize her. The golden 
curls which had always been simply brushed, 
then left to nature’s will, were now put back in 
a rigid little braid that completely altered the 
child’s appearance. Her picturesque garments 
had been replaced by a blue print frock, ugly 
in shape and color ; while the clumsy skirt which 
draped her limbs gave them an awkwardness 
of movement most unlike the hitherto graceful 
Carlota. 

But it was she; and with her soft clinging 
arms about his neck and her sunshiny smile 
greeting him, the lad realized that the world was 


THE NEXT MORNING 


161 


not yet empty of all lie had held dear and famil- 
iar. 

Jack looked on, amazed by this rapturous em- 
brace between the twins. In that household ax- 
pressions of sentiment were rare, save on the 
mother ^s part toward little Teddy. She idol- 
ized him, and it was he — sleeping rosy and 
tumbled in his ‘‘trundle,’’ whom she had shown 
to Carlota, at bedtime, as “the prettiest sight 
in the world.” 

But — kiss a girl? A boy — a sister? 
“Whe-e-ewl” said master Jack, and whistled 
so loudly that the twins loosed their arms and 
looked at him in surprise that was tinged with 
alarm. Their experience of yesterday had left 
them both apprehensive of what might happen 
next. 

“What’s the matter?” asked Carlos. Then, 
since no answer came, he crossed to where Mrs. 
Burnham was dipping mush from a kettle and 
gravely bowed over the hand she kindly ex- 
tended. 

“Good morning. Madam. I hope you have 
rested well.” 

In her surprise, the poor lady nearly dropped 
the dish of hot “suppawn.” She had already 


162 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


been touched and gladdened by the earlier civil- 
ities of Carlota. They reminded her of a past 
that was widely diiferent from the present, and 
of a time when she, too, had had time for the 
small amenities of life. But to have the lad, 
also, remember to be courteous sent a faint flush 
to her cheek and a grateful warmth to her heart. 

Thank you, yes. Fairly well. And youT^ 

Jack could no longer whistle. He had to sit 
down in order to properly recognize this “air- 
ish’^ gentlewoman who had stepped into his 
mother ^s shoes, and he sat thus, staring, when 
Carlota discovered him. She went directly to 
him and offered her hand in greeting, saying : 

‘ ‘ Good morning, J ack. Teddy has told me all 
about you and what a splendid brother you are. 
I’m sorry I called you a bad boy, last night, but 
I thought you were going to — to kill my 
brother.” 

“Gophers! I guess he ain’t easy killed. 
I — ” He hesitated and uneasily glanced to- 
ward his mother. He had never felt so big and 
clumsy. He thought the little girl wasn’t half 
as pretty in his sister’s clothes — My! but the 
mother must have liked her to let her wear 
them! — as she had been in that queer, Indian 


THE NEXT MORNING 


163 


attire of her own. Wow! Wouldn’t that 
plaguey breakfast ever be ready? In his most 
boyish manner he demanded this and with so 
much more disrespect than usual that Mrs. 
Burnham stared, then smiled to herself, as she 
quietly answered: 

“It is ready for those who, also, are ready. 
But you haven ’t finished your preparations, my 
son.” 

“I’d like to know what you mean?” 

She touched her head significantly and he 
understood. The family comb had done faith- 
ful duty on Carlos’s curls, but Jack, wishing to 
impress the “tenderfoot” by his own manly 
independence had, for once, omitted that part 
of his toilet which Mrs. Burnham had, hitherto, 
compelled. Affecting a rude disdain, he now 
slouched forward to the table, but chanced to 
look at Carlota. 

She still retained that wide, innocent outlook 
which commonly belongs to earlier childhood, 
and her blue eyes regarded him with open as- 
tonishment. He was a curiosity to her. She 
had never seen anybody like him. He was on a 
par with the hand-car, the railway, the Apaches 
— any and all of the novelties which confronted 


164 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


her in this land of the strangers. All her life 
she had been accustomed to the exaggerated 
courtesy of the Spanish dependents at Refugio 
and to the exact politeness of her gentleman 
father, who believed in example rather than 
precept. These little civilities were as natural 
as the breath in her nostrils and, above all that, 
the name of ‘‘mother’^ suggested a personality 
higher than mortal. 

She exclaimed, in a low tone : 

‘‘He is saying that — to his — mother!’’ 

“Yes. But, for his own sake and in justice, 
I will explain that he is exhibiting himself in a 
new character,” observed that lady. 

‘ ‘ Why ? ’ ’ 

“Ah! why? Probably, my dear, because he 
is a — boy! A being whose nature, as yet, is 
all at sixes and sevens; but who will arrive at 
a true manhood, by and by, please God.” 

As she spoke she smiled at her son and yet 
she sighed; and it was due to Carlota that as 
he hastily left the room he returned an answer- 
ing smile. When, after a brief delay, he came 
back his head had been deluged with soapsuds, 
which still trickled over his blue jumper, and 


THE NEXT MORNING 165 

his shock of hair was plastered as smooth as if 
it had been glued into place. 

Then, while Mrs. Burnham bowed her head in 
the ‘^silent grace’’ that was a remnant of her 
former life, the sun stole through the window 
of the cabin and touched their reverent forms 
with a glory all his own. Even so the busy 
housemistress felt her heart brightened, by the 
presence of these young strangers and silently 
wondered : 

‘ ^ Are they ‘ angels unawares ’ ! I have a feel- 
ing that they will prove such.” 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE BUENHAMS 

When the simple breakfast was over, Mrs. 
Burnham bade the lads remain indoors for a 
moment, saying: 

want to explain to you, Carlos and Carlota, 
why I had you make this change of clothing. 
One reason is, you will feel better for putting 
on fresh, even if plainer garments. I do not 
suppose you always wore the one costume when 
you were at home, did youP’ 

Carlota laughed and replied: 

‘‘No, indeed! We had plenty of changes, 
though all were made the same.’’ 

“ So I judged. Also that, probably, there 
are no other children in this country attired in 
just that fashion.” 

“My father thought it was the very best sort 
of dress for us,” returned the little girl, ear- 
nestly. 

“Dear child, I do not doubt it for a moment, 
166 


THE BURNHAMS 


167 


and I wish nobody need be more hampered by 
their clothes than you have been. I see, too, 
that those simple skirts you have on now are a 
burden to you, but youdl soon get used to them. 
Maybe soon, also, youdl return to your own 
home and habits.’’ 

As she said this she sighed and Teddy 
shrewdly remarked: 

‘‘She doesn’t not believe it, though. She 
allays bweaves herself that-a-way when she 
doesn’t not sepect fings.” 

They all laughed and the mother exclaimed: 

“Why, Teddy! How observant! Yet small 
boys are not the truest prophets. There are 
other reasons why it is better you should keep 
your kid garments — ” 

“Kid, kidder, kiddest. Kid garments, gar- 
ments of a kid. A pair of kids,” mumbled Jack 
who had, by this time, quite forgotten the 
silent rebuke of Carlota’s eyes. Carlos heard 
the monologue and was inclined to resent it but, 
instead, found himself listening to Mrs. Burn- 
ham. 

“ So I will wrap them carefully, and mark 
them with your names and addresses. You 
should keep them with you. The blankets and 


168 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


the other things which the troopers left with 
you at Leopard are here in my room. They 
may be useful to you, and aren’t apt to wear out 
soon. The blankets are the finest I’ve ever 
seen, though some of the Indians who pass here, 
on the march, have those nearly like them.” 

‘ ‘ They were gifts to our mother. They were 
woven by some Navajo women to whom she’d 
been kind. She was always kind to everybody. 
My father says that she nursed the sick, gave 
drink to the thirsty, food to the hungry, and 
rest to the weary. Oh ! dear lady, I think you 
must be like her ! ’ ’ cried Carlota, impulsively. 

Letitia Burnham’s eyes filled. She had al- 
ready taken the motherless wanderer into her 
inmost heart and had welcomed her as a gift 
from God which she was thankful to retain, 
even for a little time. Yet she was greatly con- 
cerned for her small guests, knowing how slight 
a thing may turn the current of a life, and how 
doubtful it was that news of their whereabouts 
would at once bring their absent father. 

Before he had retired, Mr. Burnham had 
promptly acted upon the suggestions in Captain 
Sherman’s brief note. But, would the tele- 
grams and advertisements reach the eyes for 


THE BURNHAMS 


169 


which they were intended? And the Captain’s 
information had been very scant. 

Adrian Manuel had gone ‘‘north”, hut nobody 
knew where. The children had never been told 
the name of their great aunt, Mrs. Sinclair, nor 
even, until the Dishrows’ arrival at Refugio, of 
her existence. Then Miguel had spoken of her 
as “a wicked old woman”, and had honestly 
considered her such — simply because she gave 
annoyance to his master. Neither child had 
mentioned the lawyers save as “enemies”, and 
the further cross-examination which the Cap- 
tain had intended making in the presence of the 
station-master — for their mutual benefit — ^had 
been forgotten in his hurried departure else- 
where. After he had parted from his little 
charges he had remembered this fact, but trust- 
ed to the station-agent’s intelligence to learn 
what more there was to know. 

Moreover, for some time past, Mrs. Burnham 
had lived in expectation of a removal, and this 
fact, added to the foregoing, made the chil- 
dren’s future a doubtful one. 

Household duties were simple in that narrow 
cabin, and though there was always sewing to be 
done, that could be taken out of doors. So, as 


170 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


soon as the place was in order, Mrs. Burnham 
took Carlota’s hand and said: 

‘^Come, I have one other treasure to show 
you. Bare as this isolated station may seem 
to you I have learned to love it. We have lived 
here for some years and were only temporarily 
at Leopard. I didn’t wish to go there and was 
glad to come back, because of — that!” 

Carlo ta’s gaze followed the pointing finger. 
At some little distance from the cluster of build- 
ings was a small heap of stones. Around the 
heap there had been set a slender fence of 
tule reeds, strung together by strips of the 
same growth. A cactus, larger than ordinary 
and loaded with brilliant flowers, stood at one 
end of the enclosure while at the other a strug- 
gling tree made a bit of shade. A rude shed 
had been fixed beyond the spot, and within this 
a bench, whereon Mrs. Burnham and Carlota 
now sat down. 

^ ‘ What lovely blossoms ! We have some cacti 
of that kind in our mother’s garden.” 

“This one blooms — in my child’s.” 

The girl looked up in surprise, but instantly 
understood. She slipped her hand into the 
mother’s and softly asked: 


THE BURNHAMS 


171 


‘‘Was it long agoU’ 

“Five years. She would have almost been a 
woman now and I often think what she would 
have been to me as such. Then I look abroad 
and am glad she is not here to suffer the intol- 
erable loneliness of the plains. The young are 
not fond of solitude. Her name was Mary.’’ 

“Why, my own mother’s name ! I’m glad of 
that. Maybe she wouldn’t have suffered. 
Anyway, you know she doesn’t now. My father 
says that though our mother was so very, very 
happy on this earth, she is far happier now, 
with God.” 

“Dear little comforter, so I try to believe of 
my own daughter” said the woman, laying her 
hand on Carlpta’s head. 

“Was that her cactus?” 

“Yes. She set it here. Her father planted 
the tree, which a brakeman brought her from a 
distant station. There were other things here, 
too, but they are gone. At first, I felt too deso- 
late to care for them, and, when I had rallied 
so that I could, it was too late. Yet since it 
was here that she had made her garden it was 
here I had her put to rest. ’ ’ 

Carlota looked curiously at the stones. 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


in 

Away off in tlie distance, also, she could see be- 
side the track another of the dead cattle which 
had so frightened her while on the hand-car. 
Mrs. Burnham noticed the glance and answered 
it: 

‘^We had to put the tule reeds as a precau- 
tion against the coyotes.” 

The girl shivered and exclaimed: 

^‘How dreadful! Yet the stones don’t make 
any difference. The dear God knows about her, 
just the same. And — and — the cactus is very 
beautiful. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, dear, yes. ‘The cactus is very beauti- 
ful. ’ There is no life so dark or barren but may 
have its cactus bloom. Now since you have told 
me all about yourself I’ll tell you what is need- 
ful you should know about this Burnham fam- 
ily. It will do for the ‘story’ that Teddy is 
always begging.” 

She smiled upon the little man who now ap- 
proached, with his fat hands full of a rare yel- 
low blossom which he offered to Carlota. 

“Posies, girl, for you.” 

“Thank you, nino. You’re a darling, dar- 
ling baby ! I do love flowers better than — than 
almost anything, I guess.” 


THE BURNHAMS 


173 


Teddy climbed up beside her and watched as, 
almost unconsciously, she began to pull one of 
the strange blooms to pieces. 

‘^Girl! No, no! You mustn’t bweak them. 
It might hurt them, my muvver says. ’ ’ 

‘‘I’m not hurting it, Teddy. See? Little by 
little, I take it apart, gently, for I’m trying to 
find out its name. Though, maybe, Senora, you 
know it?” 

“No. I’ve not seen them often. But — at 
your age — do you understand botany?” 

“I don’t understand it — much. Only, most 
always, if I have a new plant I can find its class 
and, often, its genus. Like this. Don’t you 
know?” 

“Once I knew. I was a teacher in my girl- 
hood.” The sight of the child analyzing the 
desert flower had carried the exile’s thoughts 
back over many years, to a pleasant New Eng- 
land school-room and a class of eager maidens 
who learned from her. Yet she promptly ban- 
ished her momentary regret, reflecting: “The 
cactus is very beautiful! And my blessings 
do outnumber my deprivations.” 

It was a wonderfully skillful young hand 
which dissected the unknown flower and, when 


174 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


it lay with all its parts separated and arranged, 
Mrs. Burnham’s interest was as great as Ted- 
dy’s. Eager to see, he thrust his dark head be- 
tween Carlota and her ‘‘subject” in a way that 
hindered her study, so she left its finishing until 
another time. 

“I’ll put the rest of the blossoms in my box, 
Teddy, but I’m quite sure it’s an orchid. I 
think it is a ‘ Plantanthera. ’ I do miss my 
father so about flowers. He knows everything 
and everyone there is, I s’pose.” 

“I thought that looked like a ‘botany box,’ 
when I saw Dennis take it off the car, last night. 
Yet, I could hardly believe I saw one — here.” 

‘ ‘ Oh ! yes. We always take our things. Car- 
los has his hammer. My father teached him, 
taught him, I mean, about stones, ’cause he 
doesn’t care so much for flowers. Now, please 
tell me the story. I love stories as well as 
Teddy, prob’ly. Old Marta knows heaps of 
them but Gaudalupo knows even more. Beg 
pardon. I’ll stop talking and listen.” 

Yet Mrs. Burnham hesitated a little, trying 
to decide how much it was necessary Carlota 
should know; though impelled by the girl’s 
abounding sympathy to talk freely of matters 


THE BURNHAMS 


175 


usually kept to herself. Carlota helped her, 
laughingly : 

‘‘I know. When I want to tell a story and 
the words don’t come right away I always be- 
gin : ‘ Once upon a time ’. ’ ’ 

The lady smiled, took a fresh needleful of 
thread, turned the stocking she was darning, 
and began : 

‘‘Well, ‘once upon a time,’ my husband’s 
father died, very suddenly, leaving behind him a 
large debt to a rich woman from whom he had 
borrowed money to carry on his business — that 
failed. His two children, Teddy’s father and 
his Aunt Ella, determined to pay this debt and 
clear their father’s name and honor. She be- 
came a trained nurse and is now in a New York 
hospital. She has a fine position and good sal- 
ary and is steadily putting aside part of it, to- 
ward her share of the debt. But she works 
very, very hard and it is a fresh trouble to Mr. 
Burnham that he isn’t able to provide for him- 
self. He came west to engage in mining, and 
has made several ventures in that line. Until 
now none of them have turned out as he hoped, 
so he took this position till he saw his way to a 
fresh start. He thinks he sees now the way to 


176 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


leave here very soon. I hope that before we 
go your friends will have come for you. If not, 
you may have to be left with other strangers, 
and I thought best to prepare you ; and you un- 
derstand, now, why I wish you to keep all of 
your belongings together. But — that’s all. 
If you could so soon become to me like one of my 
own, why shouldn’t you to another just as 
easily.” 

It was like Carlota to think first of others, 
nor had she fully realized the result to herself 
if her new friends departed before she was 
“called for.” The word “mining” had roused 
familiar ideas and she exclaimed : 

“Oh! I do wish my father was here to see 
about Mr. Burnham’s mine! He would know 
in a minute if it was a good one ! ’ ’ 

“But, deary, we have no mine — yet, nor the 
slightest interest in one. We are merely ‘pros- 
pecting’ — ” 

“Beg pardon. Oh, that’s what my father 
does!” 

“Has he a mine of his ownf” asked the set^ 
tier’s wife, with almost pitiful eagerness. 

“No, indeed! He doesn’t wish one. It’s 
just his business to — to location them. I’d 


THE BURNHAMS 


177 


better ask Carlos, or you would. He knows 
more about it than I do.’^ 

Then, as the rumble of an approaching train 
startled her, she sprang up and frantically 
waved her hand to Carlos and Jack, who were 
hunting gophers on the plain beyond the track. 

‘‘Oh! they’ll be rolled on and killed! The 
train — the cars — my brother ! ’ ’ 

Mrs. Burnham rose and took the little girl’s 
hand. 

‘ ‘ There, there, child ! No trains can hurt you 
or anybody if you keep away from the rails. 
Try to look upon them as the pleasantest things 
of our days, and you’ll soon get over your fear. 
Now, you and Teddy play by yourselves. I see 
that Mr. Burnham wishes to speak with me, be- 
fore this train arrives.” 


CHAPTEE XVIII 


A BOUGH KNIGHT EKRANT 

‘‘Letitia, that woman we owe was on the 
train that stopped here last night. She was 
one of those who spoke to these Manuel chil- 
dren and the sight of her clinched my anxiety 
to get away.’’ 

‘ ^ That — ^woman ? Are you sure ? ’ ’ 

‘^I reckon I can’t be mistaken in the face of 
the person who has held a mortgage on my life 
so long. The queer thing is, I overheard her 
say she’d ‘crossed the continent a dozen times’ 
— that I never chanced to see her before. Now 
— shall I send word ahead that the new man 
can have my place ? ’ ’ 

“So — soon, dear!” 

“Capable operators and agents aren’t as 
thick as sage brush hereabouts. Especially 
those willing to^live at — Tuttle! I owe some- 
thing to the company I’ve served so long and — 
I mustn’t lose this chance. The traces I found 
178 


A ROUGH KNIGHT ERRANT 179 


— I^m sure this venture’ll pan out well — I hate 
to uproot you from your home, poor as it is, 
but I hope to give you a better. Shall I send 
word, ‘Yes?’ Here she comes!” 

“Ye-es,” faltered the wife, hurriedly turning 
houseward to hide the tears which had started 
to her eyes. To leave the home itself was less 
to her than leaving the stone-covered grave be- 
side it. However, frail as she was, she was a 
loyal wife and sunshiny woman, and she made 
the best of the matter. She would at once be- 
gin her preparations, but her heart was heavy 
with forebodings concerning the children so un- 
expectedly placed in her care. 

Mr. Burnham had lost no time in carrying out 
the suggestions of Captain Sherman’s note. 
He had sat up late on the night of its arrival 
dispatching and receiving messages concern- 
ing them. He had even supplemented the cav- 
alryman’s directions by inquiries of his own, 
for when all was summed up that officer’s facts 
had been meager, indeed. 

As Mrs. Burnham thought, it was fortunate 
that the new station-master could not arrive at 
Tuttle till the end of two weeks; and during 
those fourteen days her husband made fresh ef- 


180 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


forts to trace the children’s friends, anxiously 
scanning every mail and listening to every wire 
— and all without result. 

What had seemed to Captain Sherman and, 
at first, even to Mr. Burnham, the simplest mat- 
ter in the world became impossible to accom- 
plish; and all because of a chain of circum- 
stances, each trivial in itself. 

The letters and messages sent to Lanark, the 
nearest postoffice to Refugio, remained un- 
claimed and undelivered, because on the very 
night of Pablo’s arrival at the mission, Miguel 
had left it and had not returned. Nobody else 
there sent to Lanark, nor did the indolent mail- 
and-telegraph-agent trouble to forward any 
matter to Refugio, since he knew that both its 
master and manager were absent. 

When he left home after failing to draw fur- 
ther information from Pablo than the agave leaf 
contained, Miguel set off at once on a search 
of his own; and by a strange chance came to 
that glen in the mountains where Benoni lay 
dead among the dead Apaches. Always hasty 
in judgment, the distracted fellow now leaped 
to the conclusion that his beloved ‘‘small ones” 
were also dead — or worse — were in captivity. 


A ROUGH KNIGHT ERRANT 181 


and that thereafter life held only torment for 
him. He would never dare to look upon Adrian 
ManuePs face again; and, though he still car- 
ried the sealed letter which was to be opened 
at the end of two months, he resolved to go 
where none could find him till that time came. 
Then — ‘‘what shall be will be!” he concluded, 
and mounting the horse which supplied Ama- 
dor’s place, he rode away southward and was 
seen no more. 

The Disbrows, also, left at once, and reached 
a remote little town on their homeward way, 
when the elder gentleman was suddenly stricken 
with a serious illness. Indeed he was so ex- 
tremely ill that, Mr. Rupert, who would other- 
wise have been eager to secure and read all 
newspapers, had neither time nor thought for 
anything save nursing his father back to health, 
or, at least, to a physical condition fit for travel. 
He did, however, seize an opportunity to dis- 
patch a message to Mrs. Sinclair ; confident that 
her energy would be sufficient to trace her 
“Mary’s children,” should they still be alive. 

But Mrs. Sinclair was at that time on her 
journey across the continent, and the servant 
left in charge of her home received the message 


182 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


and mislaid it. She had not dared to break the 
seal and read it, or she might have told it 
promptly on her mistress’s arrival. As it was, 
fearing the sharp rebukes which would have 
been given her, she kept the matter secret, 
trusting in her heart that “it couldn’t have 
amounted to anything or another would have 
followed.” 

Adrian Manuel, the longed for father, lay a 
prisoner between hospital walls, and in immi- 
nent danger of never leaving them alive. He 
was so critically ill that he was oblivious to all 
that went on about him, nor were the advertis- 
ing columns of a newspaper of any interest to 
the quiet nurse who attended him ; and who, be- 
cause of his hazardous condition, allowed no 
less experienced person to care for him. 

This was the reason of his mysterious jour- 
ney “to the north.” The knowledge of his ser- 
ious malady had come to him with startling sud- 
denness and he had made instant preparation 
to place himself under the best surgical treat- 
ment. He would not sadden his happy little 
ones by his own forebodings and had ridden 
bravely away with a gay Adios!^’ to meet his 
fate. Should he not return, the sealed letter 


A ROUGH KNIGHT ERRANT 


183 


provided for everything, and especially, that the 
twins were then to be taken to Mrs. Sinclair, 
who thus would be left their natural and only 
guardian. 

So, when the two weeks expired and the Burn- 
hams could no longer delay departure they de- 
cided that the young Manuels must accompany 
them. The new station-master was a rough old 
miner, unmarried, and though efficient in the 
duties he assumed, he liked to keep a lot of such 
men as himself about him. To leave Carlota 
in such an establishment, even on the now fad- 
ing chance of her father’s claiming her, seemed 
impossible to Mrs. Burnham. 

But the child, herself, strenuously protested 
against this departure. Captain Sherman’s 
lecture upon ‘‘Obedience” had vividly im- 
pressed her. 

‘ ‘ He said to stay was right. I ’d made trouble 
enough not obediencing before and I must. He 
was a soldier — he knew. We must not go away 
from this straight railroad track, not at all. 
We can live at Leopard with Dennis, if we can’t 
live with the new folks. ’ ’ 

Whereat that fine fellow answered without 
delay : 


184 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


^‘Sure, me purty colleen, Tis meself ’d be 
proud to have the carin’ of ye, so it would. 
More by token ye’re a born lady, so ye be. But, 
faith, if the family’s going to dig gold out of 
the mountains beyant, Dennis Fogarty’s the 
man must have a fist in that same. Och ! It’s 
the truth I am speakin ’. ’ ’ 

Mr. Burnham clinched the argument, saying : 

^^That cuts your last plank from under you, 
my dear. Never mind. I shall leave directions 
what is to be done when you are sent for and 
how we may be followed. We start to-morrow 
morning, at sunrise. ’ ’ 

At the hour they named they did so. A can- 
vas-covered wagon containing a camper’s out- 
fit and drawn by four old — therefore experi- 
enced — horses, left the little station platform 
for a ‘^Castle in Spain.” Yet, despite Letitia 
Burnham’s feeling that it might prove only that, 
she was cheerful over the departure, seeing her 
husband happy at resuming what he called ‘Hhe 
business of his life,” and that he now believed 
would be successful. He had often, on similar 
settings-out, been equally sanguine, but the good 
wife was not one to remind him of that. Be- 
sides, as she confided to Carlota ; 


A ROUGH KNIGHT ERRANT 


185 


/‘After alPs said and done, away down in 
their hearts all human beings love a little vaga- 
bondizing ! ’ ’ 

So, though her eyes filled as she glanced to- 
ward her Mary’s grave she was still able to 
smile upon Teddy, lifting him into the wagon 
and, rather hastily, climbing in beside him. 

“I think it will be lovely, even though it 
doesn’t seem right for us — Carlos and me. 
But we shall like it. We’re used to sleeping 
out of doors and it will be like a long, all-sum- 
mer picnic, won’t it I” 

“I hope so. Of course, there will be hard 
realities. The worst is sometimes wanting 
water. It’s a thirsty, thirsty land, this New 
Mexico. But — ‘The Lord will provide’.” 

Carlo ta ran on in front and joined her 
brother and his comrade, Jack; and, presently, 
to their surprise there came to them the sound 
of Letitia Burnham — singing! A low, sweet 
hymn, whose burden was thanksgiving. 

“Gophers! The mother at that business? 
Hold on! Hark!” cried Jack, who could 
scarcely believe his own ears. 

“Your father is singing with her. That’s 
all,” said Carlota. 


186 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


That’s all, is it? ‘All?’ Well, then, Sayny- 
ereeter, let me tell you that I, John Winterbot- 
tom Burnham, can’t remember that, during the 
whole course of my checkered career, I ever 
heard my respected respectable parents warble 
before ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Y on — disrespectful boy ! ’ ’ 

“What have I done now? Can’t a fellow call 
attention to the talents of his parents without 
being accused of disrespect?” he demanded, in 
affected astonishment. 

They all laughed. They were in a mood to 
find even trifles amusing. There was not a 
cloud in that wonderful sky; the blue was al- 
most too radiantly deep. There was a clear- 
ness in the air which rendered the distant 
mountains closely visible, and the expanse 
which lay between them and these hills of de- 
light seemed less a solitude than did that cen- 
tral plain, marked by its one line of shining 
steel. 

“Behold, my friends ! We go out — paupers ; 
we return — millionaires!” declared Jack, 
proudly strutting beside his “team.” These 
four venerable “campaigners,” who had been 


A ROUGH KNIGHT ERRANT 187 


chosen because of their familiarity with plain 
and mountain life, were the first horses with 
which he had ever been familiar. The days of 
his parents’ former wanderings a-field had been 
too early for him to recall. 

‘HImm. That front beast on the left has a 
spavin,” remarked Carlos, musingly. 

‘‘Huh! What’s tliatf Spavin! Spavin! 
I’d have you understand, young Trot-and-go- 
barefoot, you — that what I don’t know about 
horseflesh isn’t worth knowing.” 

Carlos looked on, questioningly. He rarely 
knew whether Jack were jesting or in earnest; 
but, either way, he found that having a boy 
companion was so delightful that he was in- 
clined to rather neglect Carlota, with whom his 
time had always been passed. At that same 
moment, up came Dennis, riding a vicious little 
beast which was doing its utmost to unseat the 
unaccustomed horseman. 

“Dennis! Dennis, on a broncho!” cried 
young Burnham, stopping his leader’s prog- 
ress, to await this fresh arrival. “We 
thought you had petered out, Dennis, me 
friend! Sickened of the job and gone back to 


188 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


straightening the ties. Where did you get 
that nag, eh? and what are you doing with that 
unhappy burro 

‘‘Whoa, I tell ye ! Whist ! to the heels of ye ! 
So, so. Yes, I know, I know. There, there! 
Quiet, me beautiful boy! So, so — so-oV’ 

The wild little horse had been nearly mad- 
dened by the treatment of its new owner. It 
had been checked up till its neck was half- 
twisted out of shape, while a facetious track- 
man had persuaded Dennis to put on spurs of 
an exaggerated size. 

As soon as the broncho neared the other 
horses it quieted its movements and, as if to 
give the children a chance to contemplate its 
rider in all his glory, planted its forefeet firmly 
in the sand and stood stockstill. 

“Och! Dennis, me boy! Sure Tis yourself 
that^s magnificent, entirely!^’ mocked Jack, 
clapping his hands to his breast with a tragic 
air. 

Nor, though they tried, could the twins help 
laughing. 

“If Miguel could see!” cried Carlos, hurry- 
ing forward to examine the Irishman’s outfit. 

This was truly gorgeous. He had purchased 


A ROUGH KNIGHT ERRANT 189 


it from a passing Mexican vaquero. It con- 
sisted of mucli adorned, leathern breeches; a 
gay silk shirt and sash; a fine scrape (cloak), 
thrown carelessly over one shoulder; a hand- 
some sombrero; long boots, such as no Mexican 
would have parted with, save from dire neces- 
sity ; a heavy, clumsy saddle ; and a bridle, rich 
in ornament. Altogether, a fine and pictur- 
esque outfit, that might serve well in some 
fiesta procession, but likely to prove trouble- 
some on the present trip. 

Carlota soon stopped laughing. Even 
though she could see in the depths of the 
^‘schooner’’ the amused faces of Mr. and Mrs. 
Burnham, she feared that Dennis might be 
more sensitive than he appeared and he, cer- 
tainly, had spared nothing to do justice to the 
occasion. 

‘‘It surely is a nice little pony, Dennis. But 
IVe only seen you walking the track or on a 
hand-car and I didnT know you were a horse- 
man;’’ she remarked. 

“Faith, it wouldn’t be much of a man that 
couldn’t bestride the back of a beast, now 
would it, little lady? It’s ridin’ I haven’t been 
doin’, belike, but that’s neither here nor there. 


190 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


It’s ridin’ I shall be from this on, and why not? 
But, how do ye like me new clothes, Miss Car- 
lota?” 

‘^They are very grand, Dennis. I’ve seen 
such at fiestas, yet, on ordinary days they’ve 
been put away very carefully. I hope yon 
won’t hurt them in the mountains. Why, your 
sombrero is finer than mine, and much more 
adorned. ’ ’ 

‘‘Sure it is that, now ain’t it?” said Dennis, 
well pleased. “But ye’re not askin’ a word 
about t’other fine beast I’m a leadin’, me 
dear.” 

“I suppose that is for your — your — pack, 
isn’t it. Or to rest you and the broncho when 
he is tired.” 

Now, indeed, was Dennis Fogarty a happy 
man! Almost from the first he had become 
Carlota’s slave, and the Burnhams were glad of 
it, for he added to her enjoyment. They sus- 
pected that he had for her sake decided to go 
mining; and, also, for her sake, had Carlota 
known it, that he had expended his dollars in 
the purchase of this decorative outfit. 

“Sure, little lady, is it only that deceivin’ 
Meegell (Miguel) that can wear the handsome 


A ROUGH KNIGHT ERRANT 191 


contraptions, belike? ’Twas meself an’ Mickey 
Grady as thought the matther out. A sombrero 
is it? What then? So have L Sayrappy? 
Faith, I warrant here’s one to be proud of. 
And a burro, says you? Now bow’d this purty 
grayish- whitey be pleasin’ yerself? Eh, me 
little lady?” 

Even yet Carlota did not comprehend what 
Dennis thought he had made so plain. 

‘‘He’s a pretty little creature. Indeed, he 
is much like one I used to have at home. Car- 
los had one all beautifully marked with brown 
and white, but mine was just a mouse-colored 
dear, as like this one as — as one star is like 
another. You have made a good choice, I think, 
Dennis.” 

Then was the Irishman’s felicity complete. 
He slipped from his broncho and bowing low 
before his “little lady,” offered her the leading 
strap of the “mouse-colored ’dear.” 

“Then sure. Miss Carlota, ye’ll be doin’ me 
that proud by acceptin’ this same, as a token o’ 
friendship, belike. And I’d admire to be seein’ 
how ye fits on his back.” 

“For — ^me? You have bought that pretty 
creature for me? Why, Dennis, Dennis!” 


192 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘Tliat same is me name, an’ no shame to it; 
barrin’ ye’ll have none of the beast.” 

‘‘But, I’ll have all of him, indeed! Oh! 
thank you, thank you ! ’ ’ 

Her delight and the way in which she clapped 
her little brown hands nearly turned the brain 
of the generous Irishman. Hitherto, he had 
known but hard toil and the rough side of life, 
but Carlota represented to him something 
wholly different; and the chivalry which is la- 
tent in every manly breast, no matter how hum- 
ble, roused him to become her champion and 
protector. Moreover, he was very jealous of 
the unknown Miguel, of whom both children 
talked with such sincere affection. To Mike 
Grady, alone, had Dennis confided his ambition : 

“I’ll take the shine off that ‘Greaser’ or I’ll 
spend the last cent I ever will earn. Mind that, 
now;” and, after he had arrayed himself in his 
finery, he had asked: “Do ye think, Mickey 
boy, that the ‘Greaser’ ’ll look grander nor me, 
the day!” 

Faithful to friendship as to wrestling, Mike 
had replied and meant it : 

“Sure, there never was man under sun so fine 
as yourself the morn, Dennis, me lad.” 


A ROUGH KNIGHT ERRANT 


193 


Carlota felt really touclied and grateful as 
she cried: 

^‘All gray, with that pretty white blaze on 
his face ! What is his name, dear Dennis 1 ^ 

‘‘Name is it? If he has one, Tis more nor I 
know. Let me lift ye on, please.’’ 

She could easily have stepped into the low 
saddle, but she recognized that he wished to 
“swing her up,” as Miguel used to do upon 
some of the spirited horses at Refugio ; so she 
let him lift her, all clumsily and delightedly, 
and settled herself in her place with a laugh of 
satisfaction. 

“He’s lovely! He shall he called Conne- 
mara, for your home. It’s a pretty long name 
for a pretty small beast, but what he lacks in 
size he makes up in his cog-cognomen. That’s 
right, I think.” 

It was entirely right to the happy donor. 

“Connemara, says she. Hear to it, all. 
Connemara, for me own purty home. Sure it’s 
proud am I — ” 

A shriek — a chorus of voices broke in upon 
his happiness: 

“Dennis! Dennis! The broncho! The — 
bronch — is — gone ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XIX 


HAPPENINGS BY THE WAY 

Presentation civilities were cut short. Den- 
nis wheeled round, then became motionless. 
For a moment he had left his new horse to its 
own self, carelessly dropping the bridle, as he 
slipped otf its back — a fact none observed save 
the broncho himself. He did; and when a fit- 
ting moment arrived he flung up his heels and 
was otf, over the plain. 

For poor Dennis it was a swift and bitter 
descent from the height of joy to the depth of 
woe. His grief was almost tragic, and Mr. 
Burnham had to look away from the face under 
the sombrero, it was so wholly Irish and un- 
Mexican. 

‘‘Me horse! Me horse! Och! But I’m un- 
done. Sure, ’tis not I can walk all the way to 
them mountains beyant. Me horse ! Me 
horse!” 

‘ ‘ Dennis dear, you shall have the burro backi 
194 


HAPPENINGS BY THE WAY 195 


Don’t you worry about walking. Though I’m 
sorry the broncho ran away,” said Carlo ta 
soothingly, and slipped from ‘^Connemara” be- 
fore the other could prevent. 

‘‘Burro — be bothered!” 

“Why — Dennis!” 

“Beggin’ yer pardon, me dear; but after all 
the money I’ve spent on the beast. Ochone! 
Arrah musha, the day ! ’ ’ 

The trackman was grievously disappointed. 
Of what use his fine attire if he must return to 
walking the rails! As for going to the mines, 
unmounted, he would never do that; and he 
would travel barefoot anywhere rather than 
take the gift he had made. 

“Connemara, is it! His legs is too short an’ 
mine is too long. They’d drag on the ground, 
so they would. ’ ’ 

Carlota ceased to argue the matter. Her at- 
tention and that of the others had been called 
to Carlos who, upon the broncho’s flight, had 
not wasted breath upon anybody but had set off 
in instant pursuit. “As swift as an arrow.” 
He had been trained by an Indian and could run 
like one. As he sped over it, his moccasined 
feet scarcely touched the ground, and his lithe 


196 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


body seemed poised as lightly as a bird’s in its 
flight. As he ran his sister cried exultantly : 

‘‘See Carlos! Oh! see Carlos! He’ll catch 
him ! He will — he will ! ’ ’ 

She clapped her hands, lustily. Her eyes 
shone and her cheeks flushed. It was impossi- 
ble to look at her and not share her enthusiasm. 

“Oh! I haven’t seen him run like that since 
the last Easter fiesta. Then there were such 
races ! But he won them nearly all. My father 
says there can be no muscles better trained than 
my brother ’s, if he cares to exerter — exercise — 
them. See! See! He has his riata,^ He 
will throw it. He gains — ^he gains ! ’ ’ 

He might have succeeded in any case but this 
particular broncho was less swift than vicious. 
Also, he was burdened by a lot of useless trap- 
pings, which irritated and hindered him, and 
this was in Carlos’s favor. 

The whole cavalcade had stopped when Den- 
nis rode up to join it, but Mr. Burnham now di- 
rected Jack to go forward. 

“Keep to the road, son, in the way the runa- 
way took. I meant to go straight north, to- 
ward that first range, but this affair alters our 


1 Lasso. 


HAPPENINGS BY THE WAY 197 


course for the present. Dennis, if you’re tired, 
climb in here with us ; or ride one of the team, 
as you choose.” 

‘‘Sure, ’tis neither ridin’ nor drivin’ I’ll be 
doin’ the now. Hold! I declare that’s the 
smartest cleverest one in the world I See ! 
See the speed of him! He’s winnin’ — ^he’s 
winnin’, the little gossoon!” 

The Irishman was again radiant. A contest 
of any sort was “victuals an’ drink” to him. 
He made Carlota remount Connemara, and 
marched along beside her, “as stiff as he was 
stout,” yet growing more and more excited. 

“The riata! The riata! How glad I am he 
took it, and he had nothing else except his own 
nimble feet!” cried Carlota, in pride at the 
prowess of her twin. 

“Yes, I know, I know. He wasn’t like some, 
so he wasn’t, more boast nor boost,” rejoined 
Dennis, casting a disdainful glance upon Jack, 
who was booted and spurred in a manner only 
second to his own, though the lad’s regalia 
was extremely “second-hand” and had mostly 
been acquired by methods which would have 
greatly displeased his parents. 

At this, Carlota turned her gaze from her 


198 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


brother to Jack, with that surprised expression 
that always disconcerted him, and, for the first 
time, fully observed his attire. Then she de- 
manded : 

< < Why, boy, what are you going to fight f A 
bowie knife — a pair of rusty pistols — a gun! 
How an Apache, or a wild cat, would run if he 
saw you! But look! Carlos has caught the 
broncho — ^he surely has!^’ 

This was so, and attention now centered upon 
the approaching victor of the race. 

‘‘A lad is swifter than a horse!’’ cried the 
sister, waving her sombrero in congratulation 
to her brother. 

They speedily met and, leaping down from 
the now subdued animal, Carlos handed the bri- 
dle to Dennis, saying : 

‘ ^ There, good friend ! That saves your walk- 
ing. ’ ’ 

‘^Thanks to ye, me boy! Sure, you’re the 
slick smartest one ever lived. You’re quite fit 
to be brother to your sister, so ye be, an’ that’s 
more’n I could say for aught other young body 
I know,” with another meaning glance in Jack’s 
direction. 

But, just then, that youth had no attention 


HAPPENINGS BY THE WAY 199 


for the trackman. He was curiously examin- 
ing Carlos’s riata. He had always aspired to 
be a cowboy, and believed that a first step to- 
ward this exalted state would be by the use of a 
lasso. So he asked: 

‘‘Will you show me that trick, Carlos? Do it 
and I’ll give you one of my ‘irons;’ and if 
you’ll sell me the lariat I’ll give you my jack- 
knife. ’ ’ 

Carlos had never heard of “swapping.” 
Eather surprised, he looked up and promptly 
replied : 

“Of course I’ll show you — ^if I can. It’s not 
much to do. You just throw it, you know, and 
it does the rest of the work.” 

“Yes, I see. It’s easy, real easy. I could 
do it myself if I wanted to. I just thought, 
maybe, you’d like to show me. Might make 
you feel as if — as if — ” Jack stammered and 
stopped. He had been ready to add : “ as if you 
were of some use in our family;” but reflected 
that the remark would have otfended his hos- 
pitable parents. 

“As if what?” asked Carlos, when Jack hesi- 
tated, confused. 

“Oh! nothing. If you don’t want to you 


^00 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


needn’t, Mr. Throw-a-rope. I can trade with 
some other fellow. Likely we’ll meet a cowboy 
before night, anyway.” 

Carlos laughed. 

‘‘His lasso is the last thing any cowboy will 
part with. It is his most useful possession and 
he often spends large sums of money on it. A 
vaquero gave my father one that is worth — Oh ! 
a fabulous price. We keep it in a place of 
honor in the hall, for it’s made of the finest 
horsehair from thoroughbred stock, and has 
bands of silver where the lengths are joined, 
every little way. It is beautiful, and so slender 
you can hold it all in your palms.” 

“You won’t swap this, then?” 

“I couldn’t. It was a gift and nobody sells a 
gift, but you may use it all you wish.” 

“How can I, if you carry it all the time?” 

‘ ‘ Sure enough ! But wait. Some time, soon, 
I’ll tell you why I can’t let you have it just yet 
— even as a loan.” 

Dennis was now on the broncho’s back, and 
Carlos ran alongside to give the inexperienced 
horseman a few hints that were useful. 

“Sure, an’ I s’pose you’ve always been a- 


HAPPENINGS BY THE WAY 


201 


horseback, me boyT’ asked the grateful and 
admiring fellow. 

‘‘Nearly. IVe never walked when I could 
ride, and when IVe walked IVe always run! 
So that’s an Irish speech for you, Dennis.” 

“Carlos shall ride Connemara quite half the 
time,” said Carlota, who had joined them and 
who felt sorry that her brother was not, also, 
mounted. 

“Eide a burro! After Benoni! Well, no, 
indeed ! Burros are nice for girls, though even 
you, Carlota — ” 

He paused as she warningly shook her head 
but Dennis had no attention for anything ex- 
cept his broncho and was himself getting on 
very well. His pride in his skill and his ac- 
coutrements increased and the twins dropped 
behind to have a little ‘ ‘ talk. ’ ’ 

Carlota had noticed a look on her brother’s 
face that she did not like and promptly asked: 

“What’s the matter, Carlos dear!” 

“Nothing.” 

“You are unhappy. Tell me, darling.” 

“It’s that boy. Jack. He makes me feel — 
feel — ^he’s so boastful over those old pack- 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


^ 0 ^ 

horses, that we’d turn out in the field to die at 
home, Carlota?” 

‘‘Yes, dear.” 

“Everybody but me is mounted.” 

“You may have the whole of Connemara. 
I’ll ride in the big ‘schooner’.” 

“I want you not to tell anybody — any single 
person — ^but I’m going to get myself a horse, a 
beauty!” 

“How?” 

“I’m going to catch a wild horse from a herd 
I saw. But don’t say one word to the others 
till I come riding up on its back. I’ll lag be- 
hind now and nobody will notice when I slip 
over the plain.” 

“Oh! I hate to have you go! There’s no- 
body here who is my very own except you, Car- 
los, heart of my life.” 

“But I’m coming back — in an hour or two.” 

“My father went away. Are you going to 
the ‘north’ as he did, brother?” 

“A little way ‘north,’ and you’re to tell no- 
body till I come riding back on a new Benoni. 
Now, Adios, nina! ^ Watch out for me — 
thus!” 


Farewell, little girl. 


HAPPENINGS BY THE WAY 


203 


He waved his arms above his head, kissed his 
finger tips to her as Miguel would have done, 
and darted northward. She watched him 
through her tears and with a sinking heart, yet 
tried to remember his promise : ‘ Mn an hour or 
two.” Then she rejoined the others and kept 
a faithful, ‘‘watch out” all that long day; but 
even when the sun went down her brother had 
not returned. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE SIEGE OF COKK 

Even the possession of his broncho could not 
long fill the mind of Dennis to the exclusion of 
his ^‘little lady.’’ Having missed her from the 
party in advance of the wagon he halted and let 
that pass, then retraced his way to where she 
was slowly approaching, alone. 

‘‘Sure, Miss Carlota, this is the botherin’ 
beast! If I wants him to go forard it’s back- 
ard he will; an’ if backard — then forard ’s the 
word. What would ye be doin’ to him if he 
was yours, if ye please?” 

“I don’t know. I never ‘broke’ a horse, 
though I’ve often seen others do it. Miguel 
says that either a man or his horse must be 
master and that there’s no peace till it’s settled. 
He believes in making a final thing of it, once 
for all. ’ ’ 

“Faith, I’m not thinkin’ I’d like the 
‘Greaser’ overmuch but, all the same, a body 
204 


THE SIEGE OF CORK 


205 


must give — um, um — his due. I’ll have to tus- 
sle the thing out, bime by, I trow.” 

Then he looked at her wondering to see traces 
of tears on her face. Pulling the forelock 
which dangled below his sombrero, he asked : 

‘‘An’ who’s been makin’ ye cry, this fine 
mornin’. Miss CarlotaP’ 

“Nobody. Nobody, at all. It was foolish, 
hut see? I am not now,” and she smiled into 
his troubled face. 

“But where is the little gossoon, me dear? 
Sure, I’ve a mind to go halves with him in this 
creatur’ o’ mine. That boy Jack, bey ant, who 
doesn’t know horse from mule nor t’other from 
which, is so set up an’ flairboyant, I must take 
him down a peg. Never mind, says I to myself. 
Wait a bit, Dennis, me boy, says I. ’Tis a half 
of a horse master Carlos shall have now, but 
a whole one hime-hy.” 

“Why, Dennis! What do you mean? How 
do you know? I thought it was to be a sur- 
prise!” cried Carlota. 

“Sure, an isn’t it? We’ll speak never a 
word, you an’ me, till we meets up with a beast 
what wants to be sellin’ himself an’ then — out 
goes the wind from Jack’s sails — kerflump!” 


S06 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

‘^Oli ! is that all? I thought you meant some- 
thing different;^’ and she smiled again, antici- 
pating the moment when Carlos should return, 
riding a beautiful animal which had cost him 
nothing but his own prowess. ‘^But, Dennis, 
what is your broncho ^s name?’’ 

‘‘Name, says you? Humph! That’s more 
nor I know meself. But, bein’s he’s a new 
master why not a new name? Eh? An’ is it 
yourself will be doin’ the honor to speak it?” 

“Oh! I thank you, but I couldn’t. I’ve 
named one animal already to-day and I may 
have to name another — I mean — I’d rather you 
did it yourself. Dennis, though it was kind of 
you to think I might. What shall it be?” 

“Belike — it may not be — anything! Whoa, 
there ! Whoa, I tell ye ! ” 

“You’re pulling too tight on that bridle. 
Maybe, he thinks you want him to stand on his 
head — drawing him like that ! Oh, Dennis, 
Dennis! Don’t. Do take it easily. Your fin- 
gers are clinched and your teeth set as if you 
were in terror. That’s not the way to ride, no, 
no; and I’ve told you once, already.” 

“What then? What’s ‘once’ to a stupid like 


THE SIEGE OF CORK 


207 


me? Ain’t this the right grip o’ the thing — 
so?” 

‘‘No, indeed! You should see Miguel. His 
touch is like a feather on the rein yet — so firm ! 
Amador would neither disobey him nor obey 
anybody else. See. This way. Don’t squeeze 
your hand so tight. You look, Dennis, you do 
look as if you were in — agony!” 

The poor fellow was. He would a thousand 
times rather have been striding along upon his 
own stout feet than riding that uncomfortable 
thing. The saddle had become a throne of tor- 
ment. His great boots seemed like lead. His 
hat flopped in his eyes, his buckskin jacket gave 
him a vapor bath, and his spurs got into the 
wrong places, goading rather than guiding the 
broncho. 

Carlota suggested: 

“S’pose we wait and rest a bit, and I’ll give 
you another lesson. Good. First, now name 
him. Then we ’ll talk to him by his name till he 
learns it, and finds that new, better behavior is 
expected of him.” 

“All right, me little lady. That there Mee- 
gell rests now an’ again, I s’pose?” 


208 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


^ ‘ Surely. Did you think that he rode all the 

timer^ 

Dennis had so thought. The vivid picture in 
his imagination was of a dark and handsome 
horseman sitting upright in his saddle and ca- 
reering at breakneck speed over hill and plain. 

‘^The name, Dennis. Let’s stick to that, 
first.” 

^ ‘ Acushla ! What says you to — Cork ? ’ ^ 

“Cork! Cork? Is he a cork? Beg pardon, 
but I don’t quite understand.” 

Somewhat nettled, the Irishman responded: 

“Faith, ’tis simple, thinks I. If Connemara, 
what’s a town, is a good name for a no-account 
creatur’ of a burro, can’t Cork, what’s a city, 
be right for a horse? Eh? A city’s finer nor 
a town an’ a horse nor a donkey, says 1.” 

“That seems sensible. Cork isn’t as music- 
ally, I mean musical, as Connemara, and your 
broncho isn’t as pretty a beast. But it’s short 
and easy to say when you get — angry — so of- 
ten, poor Dennis!” 

“Who-a-a, there! Stand still. Be easy, 
easy, lad! Cork — Cor — rk, C-O-R-K! !” 

Carlota backed away and gave the broncho 
and his master a wide space. She was half- 


THE SIEGE OF CORK 


209 


frightened, half-amnsed, for matters between 
them had, evidently, reached a crisis. The ani- 
mal upraised, and so suddenly, that Dennis was 
unseated and slipped down over its back in a 
manner neither flattering to his vanity nor help- 
ful to his temper. Then, from somewhere 
about his person, he produced a short, stout 
stick, with which he belabored the equally furi- 
ous beast as if death were the object at wnich 
he aimed. 

‘ ^ Oh ! you cruel, cruel man ! He’ll kill you — 
or you him! Dennis — Cork! Oh! Dennis, 
Dennis!” screamed Carlota, lustily. 

The wagon, now some distance in front, came 
to a halt, for the girl’s cries had reached and 
startled its occupants, so that Mr. Burnham 
and Jack ran back to see what caused the up- 
roar. Yet, at that critical moment, even they 
dared not interfere. They ranged themselves 
beside Carlota and silently watched the strange 
contest. 

‘‘If ’tis a fight ye be wantin’ ’tis a fight ye 
shall haye!” yelled the trackman, now inditfer- 
ent to everything save the rebellious beast for 
which he had spent his hardly earned dollars. 
His blood was up, his spirits rose. “Sure, I 


210 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


thought me daily exercise was gone entirely, 
seein’ I’d left me friend Mickey behind. Come 
on, then, I’m the man for ye!” he panted. 

The battle which ensued was against all rules 
of horse training and more in the line of war- 
fare to which the Irishman was accustomed; 
but, even in the fiercest of the melee Dennis re- 
tained a firm hold upon the bridle rein. Be- 
cause of carelessness, he would never again lose 
his precious broncho. The spectators beheld a 
dangerous mixture of legs, heads, and hoofs; 
heard the continued whack, whack, of the shil- 
lalah, and anticipated mortal hurt to the igno- 
rant trackman. Then — the mustang lay prone 
upon the ground and Dennis stood above it — 
master ! 

Faith, that settles it! From this on, Fo- 
garty’s boss!” 

^‘0, Dennis! You’ve hurt him cruelly, cru- 
elly, I’m afraid!” said Carlota, slipping off her 
burro to kneel beside the prostrate brute and 
tenderly pat his head. 

For the conqueror, she had no word of com- 
passion, though he looked much the worse of 
the two. His fine attire was torn and dust-cov- 
ered, his face scratched and bleeding, one of his 


THE SIEGE OF CORK 


211 


gigantic spurs broken, and his gay sash in rib- 
bons. Yet there was an expression of supreme 
content upon his features and his labor-bowed 
shoulders held themselves with a new and mar- 
tial bearing. 

‘See, the conquering hero comes!’ ” mocked 
Jack, and waved his. hat ecstatically. 

Not a muscle of Dennis moved. Rigidly 
grand and imperturbable, he stood a monument 
for all to see. When sufficient silence was ob- 
tained for the full effect of his superiority he 
commanded, with great dignity: 

“Cork, get up!” 

The animal glanced at the man who stood 
above him; then, meekly as any burro might, 
the forever-tamed broncho staggered to its feet. 
With a look toward the still kneeling Carlota, 
which asked as plain as speech — “Could your 
Meegell beat that!” Mr. Fogarty slipped the 
bridle over his arm and airily strode away. 


CHAPTER XXI 


FOLLOW YOUR LEADER 

‘‘Carlota, where is your brother P’ 

do not know where he is now, Mrs. Burn- 
ham. He went — went away by himself for a 
little distance,’^ answered the girl, flushing 
painfully. 

‘‘Went away? By himself? Why?’^ ex- 
claimed Mr. Burnham, in surprise. 

They had stopped to eat their luncheon of 
bread and milk, intending or, at least, hoping 
to reach in time for supper some spot where 
there would be water when Mrs. Burnham 
would prepare something hot and palatable. 

“I — I cannot tell you.^’ 

“Ho you know?^’ 

“Yes, Mr. Burnham.’^ 

“Why canT you tell, then?’’ 

“Because I promised not.” 

“Why, my dear. This is serious. Has any- 
212 


FOLLOW YOUR LEADER 


213 


thing gone wrong T’ persisted her host, yet 
with great kindness of manner. 

‘^No, I think not. But, if you please, I 
would rather not talk. ’ ^ 

In her own mind she was sure that something 
might have gone very wrong, indeed. The sug- 
gested ^‘hour or two’’ had stretched to twice 
that time, and still he had not come in sight. 
Nothing that moved was visible across the 
mighty plain and its silence seemed intolerable. 
The railroad gleamed in the sunshine till it 
dwindled in the distance to a mere point and 
vanished. Beside it ran a bordering road of 
earth whereon the slower wheels of wagons 
could crawl east or west; and along this, at in- 
tervals pitifully short, were skeletons of cattle, 
so ghastly and suggestive that, looking upon 
them, Carlota’s heart filled with dread of her 
brother’s fate. 

She couldn’t eat. Even when, moved by her 
evident distress though annoyed by her silence, 
Mrs. Burnham made an especial dainty and 
offered it. 

‘‘Thank you. You are very, very kind. If 
you’re willing. I’ll take it for Carlos.” 

“Certainly. But I must say it is the height 


214 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


of imprudence for him to wander alone in this 
wild region.’’ 

‘‘He isn’t timid,” answered Carlota, as 
bravely as she could. 

But Teddy, sitting upon her lap, saw a tear 
escape and trickle down her cheek. 

“Carlota! Bad Carlota! My muvver says 
nobody must cwy this day. I did tumble me 
down and stubbed me my toe an’ I cwied. Then 
she told me that, about little boys going to find 
gold mines an’ havin’ Christmas candy — for- 
ever an’ ever an’ ever! So I stopped right off. 
Isn’t it as naughty for girls to cwy as for 
boys!” 

“Yes, yes. Worse, if girls are older.” 

It was a comfort to caress him and she reas- 
sured herself by the thought that both she and 
Carlos were used to wandering by themselves 
and in safety, also reflected that the herd of 
wild horses he had seen might have moved on 
and so led him out of his way. Then she said 
aloud, as much to herself as to Teddy : 

“Brother knew that we were to go to that 
Pass yonder, where the pointed rocks are and, 
likely, he’ll meet us there.” 

It was Mr. Burnham’s purpose to push his 


FOLLOW YOUR LEADER 


215 


way through this Pass to the heart of the 
mountainous land beyond, where lay the rich 
tracts of which he had heard but which, be- 
cause of attending difficulties, had never been 
properly ‘^prospected/’ 

So Carlota slipped the treat of jam-spread 
cake into the botany box slung across her 
shoulders, adding to it the slices of bread and 
cheese she could not then enjoy, and explain- 
ing: 

“Maybe I’ll be hungrier, by and by, Mrs. 
Burnham, so I’ll put this aside in my ‘box-of- 
all-work,’ as my father calls it.” 

By this time all the self- glory of Dennis Fo- 
garty had been dried up by the tear upon the 
cheek of his beloved “little lady.” He, as well 
as Teddy, had seen that, and at the sight he for- 
got everything save her unhappiness. 

‘ ‘ Sure, ’tis past time for that brother o ’ hers 
to be showin’ himself. I thought, says I, 
maybe they’d had a little scrap an’ he’d soon 
come along to patch up the breach. But no, 
says he. When he’s mad he stays mad, says 
he — if mad it is ! I’ll have a word with her the 
now an’ see if aught is I can do to cheer her 
belike.” 


S16 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


With that he pulled from his pocket a bril- 
liant cotton handkerchief, fresh from the pack 
of a peddler upon a passing train. He had 
purchased it on a day soon after this pilgrim- 
age was decided and when his ambition to be- 
come a Mexican horseman was yet young. The 
handkerchief represented a Spanish bull fight 
and, in its general effect, was red enough to 
have served as ^‘flag’’ in its own combat. At 
some opportune moment, Dennis had intended 
to produce it with dazzling flourish, for the 
amazement of his companions. He now re- 
solved upon a kindlier use. Unobserved by 
Carlota, he begged of Mrs. Burnham a half- 
loaf of bread and the greater luxury of a tiny 
pat of butter. Scooping a hole in the crust of 
the loaf he bestowed within it the butter, re- 
placed the crust he had removed, and carefully 
wrapped the whole in the gaudy napkin. Then 
he thrust the parcel into the breast of his 
jacket and rejoined Carlota. The absent lad 
might now appear at any moment and his en- 
evitable hunger was thus provided against. 

s’pose there’s never a know ye know 
where he’ll pop out of, since there ^s no spot 
in sight would hide Hop-o’-my-thumb, barrin’ 


FOLLOW YOUR LEADER 


217 


a well grown lad like your own. But sure, 
Miss Carlota, ’tis time lie was shimmerin’ 
back. He’s that light o’ foot as I never saw 
an’ ’tis pinin’ I be for a sight of his own merry 
face.” 

Now wily Dennis knew that the way to force 
her confidence was to give her a bit of a heart- 
ache; and he, like the Burnhams, felt that the 
time for secrecy was past. She looked up into 
his face and at sight of its sympathy her cour- 
age gave way. 

^ ^ Oh, Dennis ! "What do you suppose has hap- 
pened to himU’ 

could tell that better if I knew what he 
went for to do.” 

With a last rally of her bravery, she re- 
plied : 

‘^Prob’ly, he knows best and will come when 
he chooses. I hear the rumble of another 
train. I like, now, to feel the jar along the 
earth so long before they get in sight. I ex- 
pect that’s a heavy freight.” 

^^Hear to her! Do ye mind. Miss Carlota, 
how scared ye was at a bit of a hand-car, that 
first night ye come*? Blessed be the day ! An’ 
as wise now about freights an’ sleepers an’ 


218 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

‘overlands’ as the best. But look your fill at 
this one ’s on the road now. Soon we’ll he 
beyant all such matters, if things go as they 
should. ’ ’ 

The girl had not listened to all the wordy 
fellow’s talk, but she had caught that state- 
ment about leaving the line of railway, and 
asked : 

“Are they going to do that right away, 
Dennis?” 

“So the misthress was sayin’, forby.” 

“Then — I cannot go with them. . I must 
either wait here for Carlos or try to find him. 
Dennis, Dennis ! Some harm has happened 
my brother. I feel it, I know it ! ” 

“Arra musha! What nonsense is this? 
Unless, belike, he was after some mischief or 
other,” returned the trackman, with an out- 
ward show of scorn and an inward conviction 
that her judgment was right. 

“No. Oh! no, no, no. He was in no mis- 
chief. He? My brother couldn’t do anything 
— anything — ^wrong. No, Dennis Fogarty. 
Maybe he was silly to go hut he’ll come back. 
The dear Lord won ’t let any harm happen him, 
I know. And yet, I cannot go away to that 


FOLLOW YOUR LEADER 


219 


Pass in the mountains without him. I — did 
you say this burro was mine? Really and 
truly my own ? ^ ’ 

‘‘Truth, did L To have an’ to hold — if ye 
can — forever. But why’s that, me small 
Sainyereety ? ” quoth the Irishman, priding 
himself upon his fine Spanish accent. 

“If I go a little way toward the north to 
look for my brother will you go with me, Den- 
nis dear?” she coaxed. 

Happy Dennis! He struck his breast with 
an air and — hit the bundle he had hidden 
there, and the trivial incident altered his grav- 
ity to^ mirth. A second before, infected by 
her fear he had been certain that Carlos had 
been killed in some accident; now his opinion 
was wholly changed. 

“Sure, it’s go with ye I will. An’ ’tis aye 
safe an’ sound we’ll find him the now. But 
hungry? Of course. Else why? See?” He 
showed her the parcel of bread and they both 
laughed aloud. 

“Good Dennis! Kind Dennis! My father 
will thank you, oh! so much! when he comes 
home for — for all your niceness to his chil- 
dren. So, let’s tell the others that we are go- 


220 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

ing and go right away. Come, let’s. Quick.” 

Since she would not, therefore, go unat- 
tended and because he did not see how it was 
possible for her, also, to get lost if she kept 
her attention fixed upon that meeting point at 
the Pass, Mr. Burnham consented to a tempor- 
ary division of their little party, warning: 

^‘But be certain to ride back to us before 
the night comes on, Carlota.” 

Mrs. Burnham added: 

‘‘And, Dennis, if you let harm happen so 
much as a hair of her sunny head I shall know 
you are something less than a man.” 

So, delighted to have done with suspense 
and to be upon the road toward her absent one, 
the child gayly waved her hand and rode away. 
Dennis, too, again placed his hand upon 
his breast — and the loaf — in a supposed 
“Greaser” style, and goaded the noble Cork 
to follow whither the humble Connemara led. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE SNAEEK SNAKED 

Altbougli, as far as the eye could reach, the 
plateau appeared one unbroken level it was 
crossed, midway, by an unwooded valley ; and, 
as he gained upon it, the herd of mustangs 
which Carlos had seen feeding upon the hither 
side of this hidden valley suddenly disap- 
peared from his view. 

He ran lightly forward toward this vanish- 
ing point of his coveted possession, thinking: 

‘^That^s queer! They, certainly, were 
horses and no mirage — such as we saw on that 
other plain. That was strange, too ; the 
things we saw in the sky-picture were just 
what we have since come to know so well ; rail- 
road, cars, station, water-tank and all! In the 
mirage everything was upside down, but the 
horses I saw just now were walking on four 
feet, their backs right side up, and quietly 
feeding. Well, if I keep on 1^11 surely find 
^21 


222 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

tliem. And how I’ll astonish Jack when I ride 
back on a creature so much finer than his old 
worn-outs! I’ll choose the very handsomest 
of the hand and, if I have half -luck, I’ll catch it 
— thus!” 

He whirled his lasso around his head, fiung 
it, and deftly cleft the cactus spike toward 
which he had aimed. 

‘‘Well done, Carlos! Excellent! Ha! I’m 
proud of my father’s son this day. I didn’t 
know I had learned so well. If Miguel were 
here he’d push out his lips and say: ‘Ah! it 
might he worse ! ’ Poor old Miguel ! and Dennis 
so jealous of him.” 

Tossing the cactus aside he rewound his lar- 
iat for fresh efforts. At that moment, a wild 
turkey flew over his head; so low that it was 
almost within reach and so slowly that he knew 
it had been wounded in some manner. 

“It’s not manly sport to catch a hurt creat- 
ure yet — a bird on the wing, even a broken one 
— I’ll try. I’m glad Carlota isn’t here for 
she’d call me cruel. She’s a darling little sis- 
ter but, sometimes, she does make a big fuss 
about — nothing at all.” 

Watching his chance, he flung the riata up 


THE SNARER SNARED 


223 


ward and caught the wounded thing. It fell 
at his feet, dying, and a curious chill crept 
through the lad’s veins. 

‘‘That’s because of silly old Marta. I’ve 
listened to her omens till I always remember 
them, and thaVs ignorance, my father says. 
Yet, ‘Who snares the wounded shall himself 
be snared.’ Pooh! I’ve put it out of misery, 
anyway. Hal There’s a road-runner! It’s 
not hurt and how, if besides my horse, I take 
back fresh game for our suppers! Then, in- 
deed, will that boy think that ‘poor Carlos,’ 
who must trudge afoot while his neighbor 
rides, is of some account in camp.” 

Again he flung his slender cord and this 
time he failed. But nothing discouraged, he 
wound it afresh, to be ready for more serious 
business and believing that the horses must 
be very near. 

They were; much nearer than he thought; 
for as he turned toward the west, he saw close 
before him the beginning of that hidden, tree- 
less, valley into which they had retreated. 

His approach had been unnoticed. The herd 
had found a “tank,” or one of the large, hol- 
low rocks filled with water, with which nature 


224 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


supplies lier children’s need in that land of few 
streams. The animals were drinking deeply, 
eagerly, and his selection could he carefully 
made. After it had been, Carlos thought, that 
he, also, would quench his thirst at the ‘‘tank” 
but — ^business first! 

Deciding which was the very finest one of 
all the band, he took careful, deliberate aim, 
shot the riata, and caught the unsuspecting 
beast by one of its forelegs. 

Then there was consternation in the herd 
but, careless of other endangering hoofs or 
aught but his capture, the well-trained lad 
rushed forward headlong and closed with his 
captive. This was no new task for him. He 
had been taught the trick of “catching and 
throwing” by more than one employee, or pass- 
ing sojourner, at Refugio, while his steel-like 
young muscles well endured the strain now put 
upon them. He had been ah apt pupil and it 
was Miguel’s boast that the lad could beat his 
instructors at their own business. Yet the con- 
test which ensued between the wild mustang 
and the excited boy was long and severe. 
There was will on each side but the human 
will was aided by watchful intelligence; and 


THE SNARER SNARED 


225 


when the young horse-breaker had gained a 
seat upon his captive’s back he was satisfied, 
though some would have fancied the battle but 
just begun. 

< ‘ Fight — caper — rear — ^buck — ^kick — do your 
worst! Have a care! Now, quiet — quiet, 
there, and — steady!” 

He got his fingers to the animal’s nostrils 
and his lips to its ear, and what magic influ- 
ence there was thus exerted only those wise in 
horse-lore can explain. The result was amaz- 
ing. The mustang quivered in fear, tried once 
more, and futilely, to throw the hoy from its 
back, then stood stock-still. Then Carlos re- 
laxed his own muscles and suddenly was im- 
pelled to look up. 

As silently as he had stolen upon the uncon- 
scious herd in the valley so silently he had him- 
self been surrounded. Indians to right of him 
— Indians to the left of him — Indians every- 
where ! 

Odd! But his first thought was that silly 
adage of old Marta: 

‘‘Who snares the wounded shall himself be 
snared. ’ ’ 

Then he rallied. He was as brave as most 


2^6 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


lads, braver than many. He bad done some 
wonderful deeds of skill, that day, and his veins 
still thrilled with pride in his own achieve- 
ments. Of Indians in general he was not 
afraid; and he saw, at once, that these did not 
wear the dress of the hostile Apaches. Yet 
their faces were stern and uncompromising as, 
in silence, the eldest of the company advanced 
and laid his hand on the youngster’s shoulder. 

This old man nodded toward another brave, 
who seemed to give assent, and in that same 
terrifying silence the others grouped them- 
selves about their chief. He signaled a youth, 
who promptly passed to Carlos’s side, where 
he still sat upon the subdued mustang and, 
with the pretty lariat which had done such 
clever work that day, bound its owner’s arms 
behind his back. 

Poor Carlos! This indignity, to be tied like 
a criminal and with his own rope, was so bit- 
ter that anger rose and banished fear. He 
tossed his head defiantly, squared his shoulders, 
and gazed unflinchingly down the shallow val- 
ley along which he must ride to his fate. 

Those who followed glanced admiringly at 
his superb little figure, riding proud and un- 


THE SNARER SNARED 


227 


supported, and many nods of satisfaction were 
exchanged among them. Such a small brave 
would be a worthy addition to their tribe. 

After a time, the valley turned sharply to- 
ward the northwestern mountains, and the 
prisoner fixed his gaze upon them, sadly think- 
ing: 

‘‘How little did I dream of entering them 
like this ! Poor, poor Carlota ! Her heart 
will break.’’ 

Stop! He must not think of Carlota. He 
must think of nothing that would unman him. 
If he must die there, in the wilderness, it 
should be as became his father’s son! 


CHAPTER XXIII 


IN THE DARKNESS 

But Carlos was not to die. 

The Indians, into whose hands he had fallen, 
were of the most peaceable tribe left in the 
wide west — Zunis, of the Pueblos; and it was 
toward one of their villages, or pueblos — from 
which they take their race name — that they 
now conducted him. They had recently been 
greatly harassed by some of their lawless neigh- 
bors and intended to make an example of their 
captive, though without personal injury. 

As they advanced on their journey Carlos 
noticed in surprise that there were fine fields 
of corn and well cultivated vineyards along the 
banks of a stream and felt that they must be 
nearing some great rancho. He had heard his 
father describe the curious villages of the Pu- 
eblos and hoped that it was to such a place that 
he was being taken; for, even in this strait, his 
curiosity was great and he was eager to see 


IN THE DARKNESS 


229 


new things. Moreover, the ride continued so 
long that his spirits rose as he reflected: 

Evidently, they aren’t going to kill me yet 
awhile. ’ ’ 

Then he stole a glance into the face of the 
brave walking nearest him and observed that 
while it was as stern as ever it was not at all 
‘‘blood thirsty.” This increased both his cour- 
age and his interest. 

“What a tale I shall have to tell — if I live to 
tell it ! I believe I shall. I^’m sure these must 
be some of the ‘good Indians’ which the Cap- 
tain said were all dead. They look almost less 
Indian than Mexican, though they are very tall 
and straight. That old fellow in front is splen- 
did. I wish, oh ! how I do wish, I had learned to 
talk Pueblo when Carlota did and my father 
warned me, indeed, coaxed me. He said that, 
living as we did, among so many different peo- 
ple, we should study the language of each. 
That I would find then the ‘knowledge’ that’s 
‘power.’ It would be ‘power,’ indeed, if I were 
able to ask these people if they know what they 
are doing and to whom they are doing it!” 

At this point he cast a haughty look about him 
and gave his comely head a higher toss. 


230 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


What! What was. that! Did he detect some- 
thing like a grim smile on the lips of that young 
fellow at the left! 

If so, the smile was too fleeting to have been 
real. The man was merely adjusting the folds 
of his blanket, and it might have been a shadow 
of these which nettled Carlos. 

Nettled he was; and, although he knew he 
would not be understood, he angrily demanded: 

“Who are you! What are you going to do 
with me!’’ 

At sound of his voice the leader of the party 
turned half about, as if to answer, but checked 
the seeming impulse; and, in the same stolid 
silence, the party pressed forward among the 
scattered shrubs and trees which now marked 
their path. 

Gradually, the trees increased in size and 
number. There were other and wider streams, 
at one of which a man stooped and filled a 
gourd that hung at his waist. He offered this 
to Carlos, holding it to the lad’s parched lips 
with a kindliness of gesture that, surely, be- 
tokened no malice. 

Carlos would have pushed the gourd away, 
but nature was too strong for this ; so, setting 


IN THE DARKNESS 


231 


his lips to the rim, he drained the cup to the 
bottom. 

‘‘Oh! how delicious that was! Thank you!’’ 
said he gratefully. 

The gourd was refilled and emptied a second 
time; then the Indian himself drank. So did 
several others of the party which numbered, 
as the prisoner judged without seeing those 
behind him, a dozen or more men. 

Onward again; the long unbroken strides of 
the redskins equalling the restless pace of the 
led mustang upon which the captive rode. He 
was about to ask if he, also, might get down 
and walk; hoping to make them understand 
his gestures if not his words, when a sudden 
turn of the mountain spur disclosed the picture 
he had longed to see. Before him, on a ter- 
race-like hill, lay a cluster of adobe huts, or, as 
it rather seemed, one wide-spreading habita- 
tion which might shelter many people. 

If his captors did not understand his speech, 
at least, they did his smile of satisfaction, as 
he cried: 

“A Pueblo village! Then I am safe!” 

He eagerly studied it as it lay, gradually 
rising upon the slope, its succession of roofs 


2S2 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


appearing like some gigantic stairway. Upon 
the roofs some women were sitting, weaving. 
He noticed the ladder-like arrangement, lead- 
ing from the ground to the top, by which the 
buildings could be entered; though there were, 
also, openings here and there upon the level of 
the foundation. His observation was termi- 
nated by somebody’s lifting him from his 
horse and tieing his own sash over his eyes. 

‘^You shall not! You — shall — not! If I 
am to die — I’ll die with my eyes wide open!” 
he screamed, excitedly. For now his fear had 
returned and he as confidently expected death 
as he had life, but a moment before. 

There followed some talk among those who 
had been most active in his capture, and then 
he was again lifted and borne onward, upward, 
as it seemed, though he could neither see nor 
help himself save by his shrieks which, how- 
ever, availed him nothing. Thus, struggling 
and protesting, he was carried whither his cap- 
tors chose ; and, after what seemed an hour but 
was only a few minutes, he was unceremoni- 
ously dumped upon an earthen floor. 

Leaping to his feet he peered around him. 
He seemed to be alone and he was in darkness. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


THE EVENING AND THE MOKNING 

When they left Tuttle for the mountains, the 
young Manuels had obtained permission to 
resume their own costumes.’ They had found 
the skirts and fitted bodice for Carlota, and the 
bagging overalls for Carlos, most annoying, 
and once more arrayed in their familiar gar- 
ments they ‘Helt like themselves.’’ Dennis, 
almost enviously, admired the simplicity of 
Carlota ’s clothing and was proud to attend a 
maiden so picturesquely attired. 

‘‘Faith, me little lady, ye might be one o’ 
them Injun chief seses’ daughters herself, so 
ye might ! An’, if we meet up with any, they’ll 
go easy like, forby they’d be botherin’ their 
own kin.” 

“I guess they’d soon find out the difference. 
My hair is yellow and an Indian’s is always 
dark. Dennis, did you know I could talk a lit- 
tle of their language 1 ’ ’ 

233 


234i 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘Sure, an’ I didn’t but I believe it entire. 
Me purty dear, you’re that clever — ” 

“That’s not ‘clever.’ Clever means to be 
very wise, like my father. But learning to talk 
ditferent ways, why, that’s just fun. I used 
to show our visiting Indians something and 
they would tell me the name of it; then they 
would ask me for it, in real earnest, maybe, and 
I would soon know what they meant. Dennis, 
if I live to be a woman I mean to know about 
every language there is in the whole world, and 
about every single flower, too. Or if — not 
every — then as many as I can. I do, really.” 

He regarded her with all-believing eyes, yet 
there crept a touch of commiseration into his 
honest face. 

“Hear to the purty girleen! But ’tis a fine 
headache you’ll be havin’ all your life. Miss 
Carlota. Och! You will that.” 

“Knowing things doesn’t make your head 
ache, Dennis Fogarty. How can you think 
sol” 

“Oh! I know, I know. Once, Miss Carlota, 
away back in Connemara, I was sent to the 
priest to be taught. Arrah musha, the day!” 
He bitterly groaned, remembering it. 


THE EVENING AND THE MORNING 235 


^^Well, what of it? Come on, please. Don’t 
let your Cork drag along so or we shall never 
be there. That’s better. I don’t mean to 
hurry you, hut I’m so glad to be moving, and I 
do think the broncho travels more and more 
slowly all the time. I’m afraid that when you 
conquered him you took all the heart out of 
him. But, what about you and the priest?” 

^^Sure, it was mighty little. ’Twas only one 
day betwixt us, I goes in the morning, goes I, 
along with more little gossoons; an’ there sits 
his riverence, all easy like, in his chair. So we 
pays him our duty as we should, ye understand, 
an’ he stands us all up in a row. Then he 
whips out a card with them things they call 
letters printed out on’t, big an’ bold. I was 
the top o’ the row; an’: ‘Dennis Fogarty,’ says 
he, ‘what’s that thing?’ says he. 

“ ‘Faith, Father,’ says I, ‘ ’tis nought but a 
couple o’ black streaks with another streak 
crossin’ them same.’ ‘ ’Tis A/^ says the 
father, says he. But — ” 

The narrator paused, groaned, and moved 
uneasily, as if the memory were painful. Or 
— was it the saddle? 

‘ ‘ W ell, and what then ? What next ? Dennis, 


236 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


when my Miguel is telling a story he never 
stops right in the most interesting part. 
Never.” 

‘^Yes, me dear. I know, I know. But, little 
lady, that there ^Greaser’ never went to school 
in Connemara!” 

‘‘You did! But you’ll never get away from 
that school nor tell me what you learned at it, 
if you don’t hurry. Now — what next?” 

The ex-trackman scratched his head. 

“Hmm. The next thing was a crack on me 
pate! an’ that is the sum an’ the substance of 
all me book learnin’, avick!” 

“Why, Dennis! Did you give up your edu- 
cation for such a trifle as that!” 

“ ‘Trifle,’ says the little colleen! ’Twas no 
trifle, at all, at all, to get hit with the father’s 
shillalah; an’ the smart o’ the blow — belike, 
I’m feelin’ it yet!” 

He rubbed his hard head with such a comi- 
cal grimace that Carlota laughed aloud. 

“Was that, really, all you ever studied!” 

“All, says you! Sure, ’twas more nor 
enough. Home I went to me dad an’ he topped 
off the crack of the priest’s stick with a crack 
of his own, and set me to hoein’ the praties. 


THE EVENING AND THE MORNING 237 


Yes, I know, I know. Learnin^ is nice for them 
that can’t get on without it, but Dennis Fo- 
garty’s the boy as can. Och! This ridin’ 
like a gentleman is a’ most harder nor walkin’ 
the track, so it he.” 

‘‘How soon do you s’pose we’ll find my 
brother?” 

“Bother! But yourself is the one for ques- 
tions I ’ ’ 

“It is you who are bothering, Dennis; for 
though I ask them I notice that you never an- 
swer.” 

“Well, then. I’ll answer that one. We’ll 
meet up with him by sundown ! ’ ’ 

“That’s a dear Dennis. That’s quite as 
kind as Miguel and very like him. He always 
promises whatever I wish, whether he can keep 
his promise or not. I think I like that, any- 
way, it makes you feel so good inside. But, 
come on! I’ll race Connemara against mas- 
ter Cork! Straight to the ‘north!’ The way 
our father went, the way my Carlos followed, 
and now — ^we. Go ! ” 

The burro set off on a short-paced but steady 
trot and Dennis valiantly tried to keep up ; but 
Cork would not be urged, cajoled, nor punished 


238 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


into faster than a walking gait, which irritated 
Carlota and secretly gratified the ex-trackman. 

Only those who, at their first trial, have con- 
tinued horseback exercise for hours can under- 
stand his sufferings. But finally, the girl sus- 
pected the truth and modified the burro’s pace. 
She even suggested that Dennis should walk. 

‘ ‘ W ould — Meegell f ’ 

‘‘Yes. If I told him to,” she replied, con- 
vincingly. 

The alacrity with which the Irishman dis- 
mounted was proof of his relief; also, that he 
would not be outdone in anything by the un- 
known Mexican. 

Yet, walking seemed very slow, and though 
they tried to make the way merry by stories, 
and plans for the future when they should all 
— including Dennis Fogarty, Miner — be back 
at Refugio, they had not accomplished any 
gTeat distance before the sudden twilight of the 
west came down upon them. Nor, apparently, 
were they any nearer meeting the lost lad than 
when they left the Burnham’s wagon. 

Both were wise concerning the perils of 
lonely night-travel in that region, so decided to 
turn aside into a little ravine which suggested 


THE EVENING AND THE MORNING 239 


water and a camping place. It was even, by 
some miles, nearer the mountains they had 
hoped to reach, but they did not realize this 
then. 

Making what haste they could to the spot 
they had chosen they found, as they had hoped, 
a spring of refreshing water, and dropping 
down beside it drew long breaths of delight. 
Then they plunged their hot faces into the lit- 
tle stream and drank deeply. 

‘‘Sure, that was better than bein’ made Pres- 
ident o’ this fine counthry, it was!” exclaimed 
Dennis, but Carlota only sighed in content. 
Physical comfort influenced her mind, also, so 
that she said, after another moment of rest ; 

“Somehow, I don’t feel so worried about 
Carlos, now. Do you?” 

“ ’Tis meself that never was.” 

“I thought you were.” 

“Acushla! Thinkin’ an’ bein’ is two ditfer- 
ent matters. Miss Carlota. That fine brother 
o’ yours is a nimble gossoon, so he be. If he 
slips into a scrape he’ll easy slip out again. 
So, bein’s we’re here, we’d best take another 
sup o’ that blessed water an’ a bite to eat, and 
be otf to the land o’ dreams.” 


240 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


help you. I know how to saddle and 
unsaddle a horse as well as any cahallero on 
the rancho. See — this quick way! Now, take 
a handful of grass and rub down your Cork, 
while I do the same for Connemara. Then 
we’ll tether them where they can get a good 
supper and lie down to sleep.” 

‘‘Not before you’d eat a bit, little lady!” pro- 
tested the hungry man. 

“Oh! I’m too tired to eat.” 

“Then so be I!” he asserted with a lengthen- 
ing face. 

“But you must. You need food.” 

“Yes, I know, I know. Howsumever, ’tis not 
the Fogarty ’ll do that when his Miss Carlota 
goes supperless to bed,” he plaintively an- 
swered. 

“I — I was saving mine.” 

“And I.” 

“Dennis, for whom!” 

“For that same as yourself. Sure.” 

“Oh! you’re a dear, kind fellow!” 

To the ex-trackman this seemed almost as 
much sustenance as would that loaf which he 
was so conscious of having inside his jacket — 
“So handy like to tempt a poor lad.” Indeed, 


THE EVENING AND THE MORNING 241 

they were both very hungry. Also, they were 
both perfectly healthy; therefore, their self-de- 
nial was short-lived. 

‘^Dennis!’’ she called to him, in the dim 
light. 

^‘Yes, me little lady.’’ 

‘‘I think — we might take — just a little of — 
of the crust.” 

^‘I’m thinkin’ that same.” 

‘‘Besides, I have the jam-cake.” 

“Faith, an’ what more could a runaway ask? 
More, by token, to-morrow’s not come an’ to 
each day falls its lot, says 1.” 

With that he pulled forth his loaf and spread 
the gay kerchief on Carlota’s lap. 

“Do ye mind that, me dear? Sure, there’s 
more nor a plenty for us an’ him, too — when 
he comes.” 

Alas ! it is the first step that counts. In this 
case, the first slice; Dennis cut that very thick 
and bountifully spread it with butter from the 
hidden store. This he gave to the girl, who ate 
it more rapidly and unthinkingly than she had 
ever eaten anything before. As she did so, all 
fatigue passed away and, perching herself 
upon a rock, she swung her feet in a satisfied 


242 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


fashion that did the heart of Dennis Fogariy 
great good. 

For once he did not wait till she had finished, 
and soon he, also, felt the comfort of food. 
That he did not swing his feet, as she did, was 
simply because he was sitting upon the ground 
and could not; but he began to sing in that 
funny monotone which he considered music and 
that was, at least, an outward expression of his 
inward content. 

‘‘Dennis, that was so good! If there’ll be 
enough, I’d like just another little tiny bit.” 

The tender hearted fellow craftily hid the 
loaf behind him as he pretended to examine it, 
then cheerfully replied: 

“Enough, says she? Faith, there’s enough 
an’ more nor plenty for a dozen like ye. An’ 
butter — galore.” 

With that ferocious dirk of his, he slashed 
off another thick portion and gave it to her; 
but he did not take a second piece for himself, 
though his stomach lustily demanded the in- 
dulgence, and with heroic sacrifice he put the 
remnant of the bread as far behind him as he 
could reach. 

Afterward, he pulled branches from the small 


THE EVENING AND THE MORNING 243 


pines about the spring and piled them for Car- 
lota’s bed; over these he spread his own fine 
serape and, with a magnificent wave of his 
hand, motioned his ‘‘little lady” to take her 
needed rest. 

“Thank yon, good Dennis. I believe I was 
almost asleep, right here on the rock. It’s a 
lovely bed, but first, I must say my prayers.” 

So the grizzled, labor-worn man and the in- 
nocent child knelt together and put themselves 
and their desires into the safe keeping of the 
loving Father who cared for them alike. 

Five minutes later, they were both asleep, 
unconscious of danger or treachery; Dennis 
happily snoring and Carlota dreaming of Re- 
fugio and its beloved garden. Nor to either 
did it seem more than a moment before they 
were suddenly awakened, to find the sun al- 
ready rising and a tall figure looming above 
them. 


CHAPTEE XXV 


AN IKISH-INDIAN ONSLAUGHT 

Carlota leaped to lier feet and Dennis tried 
to rise, but a heavy foot was on his breast and 
a stern face bent over him, while an uplifted 
forefinger pointed dismay into his inmost soul. 

“Me hour has come!^^ thought the unhappy 
fellow, but he made no further effort to move. 
The command of those unflinching eyes was not 
to be disobeyed. He wondered if the in- 
truder's hand held the weapon with which he 
would be killed, but was almost too terrified to 
care. In his horror he felt himself already 
dying and his eyelids fluttered back into place 
as if for the last time. 

“Oh! that is his salvation! If he will only 
keep them shut till it is over!^’ thought Car- 
Iota, watching. 

After her sudden uprising she had not 
moved, and this fact was a relief to the stran- 
ger, so steadily regarding the prostrate Irish- 
^44 


AN IRISH-INDIAN ONSLAUGHT 245 


man. If she had screamed it would, probably, 
have brought the atfair to a fatal and immedi- 
ate climax. Thus a moment passed; another 
— more — an interminable time! The trio of 
human beings remained rigid, spellbound by as 
many varying emotions, while those terrible 
ten minutes which seemed an eternity dragged 
by. Then the foot was lifted from Dennis’s 
chest and he was gruffly ordered to: ‘^Get up.” 

At first, he was powerless to obey. Not 
until the sound of a sharp blow, followed by a 
grunt of satisfaction sent a thrill of new life 
through his palsied veins. Then he rose and 
saw the man who had menaced him standing a 
few feet away and pointing to the ground 
where he lay, crushed to lifelessness, a mon- 
strous and most poisonous centipede. 

‘‘He died, not you,” said the stranger, in 
broken English. 

“Yes, Dennis! That dreadful thing was al- 
most upon your throat. Oh! horrible,” cried 
Carlota. 

Dennis threw back his knotted hand to his 
neck and plucked away an imaginary reptile. 
He began to feel them crawling over him, every- 
where. He had not sufficient composure left 


246 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


in which to thank the stranger, who, however, 
expected nothing of the sort. He comforted 
the Irishman by saying: 

‘‘No more. Mate killed. Not plenty.’’ 

“Yes, dear Dennis, you’re safe now, I’m 
sure. It seemed as if the dreadful creature 
would never, never finish his crawling over 
you. The whole width of your body and so 
slow! If you’d moved or disturbed him he 
would have thrust his deadly fangs into your 
flesh and you’d have died. I’ve heard about 
those things. It was the kind God kept you, 
dear old Dennis, and sent this good man just in 
time to save you.” 

Dennis was truly thankful and humble; yet 
he rubbed his confused head and wondered 
what need there had been of the peril if rescue 
were foreordained. However, such problems 
were too deep for his simple mind and he 
looked up in a manner to reveal the amusing 
perplexity he felt. 

“Escapin’ the serpent to fall into the Injun’s 
hands! The fire an’ the fryin’-pan, belike.” 

The rescuer was, indeed, an Indian, though 
he spoke fairly good English. But Carlota 
paid less heed to him than to the possibility of 


AN IRISH-INDIAN ONSLAUGHT 247 


her wandering brother having suffered the 
same fate which had just menaced Dennis and, 
it might be, herself also. Laying her hand 
upon the stranger’s arm, she begged: 

^‘Oh! tell me, please, have you seen a boy 
anywhere ? ’ ’ 

The Irishman shivered in alarm at the girl’s 
audacity, yet no harm ensued. The Indian 
merely looked at her and answered by one 
word: ‘‘Plenty.” 

“Where? Oh! please, please say where! 
Was it hereabouts? My brother, my twin — ” 

Then, indeed, did a curious smile show upon 
the redskin’s face. He wheeled around and 
pointed up the mountain through a canyon that 
seemed a continuation of the ravine where they 
then stood. Whatever his ability, he made 
scant use of his English, for all he answered 
was: “Come.” 

Just then uprose a direful cry from the Fo- 
garty: 

“Ochone! Me bread! Me horse! The 
thievin’ creatur’! I’ll break every bone in his 
carcass, I will that!” 

Even the dignified Indian was interested. 
There was Dennis again at war with his teth- 


248 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


ered broncho, who was nonchalantly nibbling 
the last of the priceless loaf — their own break- 
fast. 

^‘Dennis! Dennis! Are you going to fight 
him every day, as you did Mr. Grady f Stop — 
I’m ashamed of you.” 

^^Stop, is if? An’ the breakfast clean 
gone r ’ 

“But that is your fault, not his. You 
shouldn’t have left it where he could get it. 
Besides, who knows but it is all dirty and — 
and centipede-y?” 

The Indian waited until there was a lull in 
affairs, then quietly untied the broncho, 
motioned that Carlota should mount her burro 
— still unsaddled, and taking the leading straps 
of both animals, strode up the canyon at a 
rapid pace. By a gesture he indicated that 
Dennis was to bring the saddles, blankets, and 
other belongings of the pair; and so intimi- 
dated was Mr. Fogarty that he dared not dis- 
obey. 

Carlota rode as silent as her guide. She 
guessed that he was taking her to some settle- 
ment and she saw that he was such as had fre- 


AN IRISH-INDIAN ONSLAUGHT 249 


quented Refugio, and from whom she had 
never received other than kind treatment. She 
was consumed by anxiety concerning Carlos 
but, from her father’s talks and her own slight 
experience, she knew sufficient of Indian char- 
acter to understand that this silence would best 
serve her purpose. She had asked for infor- 
mation and the stranger had answered, 
^^Come.” 

So because of her faith that she was being 
swiftly led to her brother, her heart grew light 
and she began to sing; and hearing the song 
floating down to him through the gulch, poor 
Dennis made a virtue of necessity and loaded 
himself worse than any pack mule. Then he 
started forward whither the others had now 
disappeared. 

It was a brief but anxious pilgrimage. At 
every step he fancied a creeping, stinging rep- 
tile beneath his feet, though he reckoned upon 
the protection which his mighty boots were to 
him. On either shoulder he bore a saddle 
which continually grew heavier, as is the habit 
of burdens carried. The blanket and serape 
airily floated anywhere it happened, underfoot 


250 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


or overhead, at the caprice of the wind ; and the 
tin box of his ‘'little lady’’ played a jingling 
accompaniment to the whole. 

“Faith! ’tis well I’d all that fine practice, 
hod-carryin’ to them tall buildin’s in Chicago, 
before I took np with railroadin’, now isn’t it, 
Mr. Fogarty?” he ejaculated, as he neared his 
journey’s end. 

A moment later, as he came in sight of the 
pueblo and a group of its inhabitants assem- 
bled before it, he complacently added : 

“An’ sure’s me name’s Dennis, they’re all 
waitin’ to receive me!” 

As he approached the spot a shout was 
raised, and his elation vanished. Believing it 
to be a “war cry,” the vicissitudes of the 
morning ended in collapse. He caught a 
glimpse of Carlota being lifted from her burro 
and led away between two squaws. It seemed 
to him that these forced her up a steep ladder, 
then threw her downward into some invisible 
depth. Heaped with his own burdens, the 
Irishman sank to the ground; An ague of fear 
shook him, his face paled, and a cold sweat 
came out upon his temples. Cowering thus in 
terror, he saw the assembled Indians swoop 


AN miSH-INDIAN ONSLAUGHT 251 


down upon him from the terrace. Then, as do 
those in mortal extremity, he began to see 
visions and dream dreams, and fancy suddenly 
brought before him the face, as he had imag- 
ined it, of Miguel, the Hated! In similar cir- 
cumstance, what would this much-envied 
‘‘Greaser^’ have done? 

The thought of the Spaniard acted like a 
tonic. With a yell as wild as an Indian ^s own, 
Dennis now arose, while the encumbering blan- 
kets and saddles fell unheeded about him. 
Thrusting his hand into his belt he unsheathed 
his dangerous dirk, crying: 

‘‘Carlota! Me own little lady! Have no 
fear! ’Tis cornin’ I am — so ’ware to ye, ye 
bloodthirsty, murderin’ Injuns! Leave her go 
— leave ! ’ ’ 

Mad with his own prowess he blindly rushed 
forward, his shining blade catching the rays of 
the sun and fiercely heralding his advance. 

But, hark! His enemies were upon him! 
He made one tremendous lunge with his ter- 
rible knife, and Mr. Fogarty knew no more. 


CHAPTEE XXVI 


CONFLICTING EMOTIONS 

‘‘Dennis! Dennis! Please open your eyes. 
O, Dennis ! How could you be so foolish T’ 

“Eh? What? Hey? An’ be I still- 
alive?” 

“It’s not by your own merit that you are. 
But, since you’ve only broken your arm and 
cracked your head, I’m thankful to scold you, 
Dennis. Silly, silly fellow!” 

The ex-trackman and amateur desperado 
raised his sound arm and carefully examined 
his head. It ached badly, yet it seemed intact. 

“Skull, is it? An’ where is the break in it?” 

“Of course, I don’t mean that, exactly. You 
bumped it pretty hard. What were you mean- 
ing to do, Dennis?’ 

He tried to rise but failed. Then he looked 
about him and realized that he was lying on a 
straw pallet, upon one of those curious roofs 
he had seen rising before him, when he engaged 
252 


CONFLICTING EMOTIONS 


253 


in the late combat. He reproachfully regarded 
Carlota, who sat comfortably curled up, her 
face bright, her hair freshly brushed, and her 
whole attitude one of entire complacency. 
Yet, as he made a second effort to rise and 
turned giddy, her expression changed to one 
of pity. 

‘‘There, poor dear, lie still. I’ll tell you all 
about it. Oh! Dennis, we’ve found friends! 
Wait. I forgot that the chief’s wife said you 
were to drink this as soon as you awoke.” 

She lifted his head upon her arm and held 
an earthen bowl to his lips and he drank from 
it, eagerly. He was both faint and thirsty 
and the warm liquid was very grateful to him. 
It was a broth of meat which he, at once, 
termed “victuals an’ drink.” 

“There, that is good. The others say that 
she is a fine ‘medicine woman’ and it should 
give you strength. ’ ’ 

All this was very astonishing to the injured 
man whose chief interest, however, concerned 
himself. 

“What happened to me. Miss Carlota?” 

“Why — I guess you tried to kill somebody 
— and he objected. The young men who were 


254 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


going to their daily tasks were gathered on the 
terrace, singing — 

‘SinginV says she!’^ 

^‘Surely. It’s the custom in this pueblo. 
So the woman told me. It’s their ‘labor song,’ 
before they go down into the fields to work. A 
hymn to the Great Spirit, praising him and 
asking his blessing on the day. I think it’s a 
lovely ceremony and when we get home to 
Refugio, I shall ask my father to have our men 
do just that way. Only, I’m afraid some of 
them won’t wish it. They aren’t very revi — 
reverentiational. That isn’t the right word, 
Dennis, but it means doing honor to God. 
But, oh, Dennis! I am so happy!” 

This amazing statement aroused the 
wounded man’s curiosity and so .aided his 
recovery. 

“I — maybe I can sit up now. I’m dead, 
entirely, but — I’ll try.” 

“You’re better, Dennis Fogarty. And if 
you’re alive how can you be dead?” 

“Yes, I know, I know. But if Injuns can 
sing hymns — Faith ! It must be in some 
better world nor any I’ve seen. So we must 


CONFLICTING EMOTIONS 


255 


all be together in another. Injuns ! Arrah 
musha! The beasts!^’ 

“Yon are not in another world, you are still 
in the same dear old one where you’ve always 
been. You’re a darling fellow, but you’re 
almost as silly as ‘The Dancer.’ Now you 
must listen. First: this is a Pueblo village. 
It belongs to a very peaceful tribe. My 
brother is here; Carlos, my own brother, and 
he is safe, too. Can you understand!” 

“Sure, Miss Carlota, have I no wits 
entirely! If he’s here, why isn’t he here! 
Tell me that, if ye please.” 

She laughed, then answered rather soberly: 

“Why, it’s the oddest thing! They’ve 
‘arrested’ him!” 

“They’ve what! ’Deed, it’s muddled I 
am.” 

“It’s like what my father told about people 
who did wrong in the big towns and cities. 
Other people take the wrong-doing people and 
put them in a prison. Well, they have put my 
Carlos, my own sweetest, innocentest brother, 
in a sort of prison here. The woman told me 
and that I should see him very soon. They’re 


256 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCFIO 


going to have his HriaP this morning and you 
must get well right off. Think of it! Can^t 
you hurry up! But, of course, soon as he tells 
them it will be all right. He has done nothing 
he should be punished for.’’ 

Dennis drew himself up and bolstered his 
back against an angle of the next roof. The 
sun was getting high and the shadow he thus 
obtained soothed his still aching head. But 
Carlota was native to that land and unclouded 
sunshine never disturbed her. It merely set 
her golden hair a-glitter while she unhlinkingly 
studied the details of this mud-built pueblo. 
In the adoring gaze of the Irishman she seemed 
herself to radiate sunshine and he winked fast, 
as if the vision blinded him; or to hide a tell- 
tale tear, forced from him by weakness and 
dismay. But she saw the betraying drop and 
taxed him with it : 

Crying! You, Dennis! When you should 
he so thankful! Or does your arm pain you! 
Of course it must, yet wasn’t it a good way the 
oldest ‘medicine man’ fixed it! Adobe mud, or 
something, outside the sticks, which are not to 
he touched, he says, for ‘a moon and a moon.’ 
That’s their queer kind of clock. By then it 


CONFLICTING EMOTIONS 


257 


will be better than tbe other arm, which you 
might break to match, if you like ! ’ ^ 

She leaned back, laughing at her own conceit, 
and, since he had the happy faculty of making 
fun at his own expense, he joined in her mirth. 
Yet he felt that their situation was graver than 
she realized, and begged : 

‘‘Begin at the very start o’ the matter, if ye 
please. Miss Carlota, an’ tell it me body an’ 
bones, from when ye rode oft with the Injun an’ 
left me to carry the truck. ’ ’ 

“That wasn’t my fault, poor Dennis. I’d 
have stayed to help you if I could but even I 
was a little afraid — then. I’m not now. I’m 
so happy because Carlos is here. He is well. 
No centipede stung him, and nothing hurt him. 
We’ll see him soon and we’ll tell them that — 
But I’m getting to be as great a talker as you, 
Dennis, dear. Do you wish another drink?” 

He nodded, and now was fully able to hold 
the bowl for himself with his uninjured arm. 

“We rode from you clear to the pueblo with- 
out a word said, though I saw the man often 
look at my clothes. Then up to my hair, and 
down to the ground. All the time I was long- 
ing to ask — ” 


^58 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘Sure, Twas hard for ye not!’’ 

“But as soon as we came here we saw 
women, squaws, at work. They were getting 
breakfast, broiling meat upon coals and baking 
little cakes of meal. They, too, looked at me 
as if I were — they didn’t know what! Their 
clothes are more like Marta’s and Anita’s than 
mine are. Much prettier things than the old 
blue ones Mrs. Burnham gave me. ’ ’ 

“Did they give ye a bit o’ their breakfast. 
Miss Carlota?” 

“Afterward. Plenty of it and it was nice. 
But, don’t interrupt, please, or I’ll never get 
through. As soon as the man who brought us 
had spoken to them in their^ own language — - 
which they didn’t know that I knew, too, a 
little — they came and took my hands. They 
smiled at me and yet I thought they looked 
sorry. One of them touched my tunic and said 
something which means ‘pretty.’ So, I told 
hen all about it. Then they led me up to one 
of these queer roofs and down into the house. 
It is very cosy and comfortable. There is a 
sort of fireplace, though I think they do their 
cooking out of doors when it’s as pleasant as 
now. One of them washed my face, just as if 


CONFLICTING EMOTIONS 


259 


I’d been a baby, or Teddy; and they brushed 
my hair with a curious comb that pulled it 
dreadfully. ’ ^ 

‘‘Bad cess to the meddlesome creatur’s!” 

“Oh ! no. It was all in kindness ; and just as 
I was hoping for my breakfast, there were you, 
outside the walls, making such trouble for us 
both! Dennis, why did you run at the men 
with your knife!” 

“Arrah musha! ’Twas themselves came 
runnin’ to me, first hand; yellin’ like wildcats, 
as they be!” 

“Nonsense. That was the song, the hymn, 
as I told you. It wasn’t music I liked very 
well, though it sounded a good deal like the 
way you sing, Dennis, dear,” she commented, 
frankly. “They saw you carrying the saddles 
and things and, from the man who brought us, 
they’d heard about the centipede. They 
meant to bid you only a decent welcome, yet 
you rushed at them as if you would murder 
them. You would, too, if one of them hadn’t 
caught your arm just in time. He hurried to 
stop you and snatched away your dirk, but that 
threw you to the ground and your head struck 
a stone. The women said that your arm was 


260 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


doubled under you and they thought you were 
killed. ’ ^ 

‘‘Hmm. I know; I know. Bad cess to me 
for an ill- thriven idjut!’’ 

‘‘No. I understand. You thought, as the 
Captain did, that there could be but one kind of 
Indian. Yet you should have known better, 
after that good one saved your life from the 
centipede. That’s all. Your arm has been 
fixed and you’ve been fed; and as soon as they 
have had that — that ‘trial’ — of Carlos, we’ll 
go on again and try to find the Burnhams. I 
wish they’d hurry it up!” 

“Wisha, for what are they ‘tryin’ ’ him?” 

“For — taking a horse. Just a horse.” 

“Wh-e-ew!” said Dennis and said no more. 
He had lived in that region long enough to 
know that horse stealing is the unforgivable 
crime, against white man or red; and, indeed, 
this made the affair a most serious one. 

Carlota was frightened by his manner and 
quickly demanded: 

“Why do you say ‘Whew!’ in that tone of 
voice, Mr. Dennis Fogarty? It isn’t at all a 
nice word and it isn’t nice in you to use it.” 

“Sure, I’m uneasy, Miss Carlota. A horse 



“ HE OFTEN CAUGHT A WILD HORSE ” 




CONFLICTING EMOTIONS 


261 


is a horse an’ there’s no denyin’ that same.” 

‘‘Dennis, that fall has made you silly.” 

“Very like that’s the truth you be speakin’. 
But, for why did he go steal a horse 1” 

“He never! How can a body ‘steal’ what 
belongs to nobody else! At home he often 
caught a wild horse out of a herd and broke it 
to ride. He’s very — very expertatious that 
way, Dennis. My Miguel was terr’ble proud 
of him.’ 

Then, after a moment, she continued: 

“I don’t see what made you disturb me when 
I was so happy. I wish somebody — But I 
won’t wait to wish. I’ll go straight away and 
find out what it all means. I ivill see my 
brother. I will make them bring him out from 
wherever he is, for he can’t talk with these 
people and I can. Oh! how glad I am I 
learned, even if only a little bit!” 

She hastily left him to his lonely foreboding, 
there upon the roof, which grew unpleasantly 
warm as the shadows moved from him. 
Scrambling down into the interior of the house 
upon which they had been sitting, Carlota 
wildly demanded of the first person she met to 
be taken to her brother. 


262 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘I must and shall see him. Where is heT’ 

‘‘Where you will be if you make an uproar. 
The council is deliberating.’^ 

That the girl would dare force her presence 
upon the elders of the village did not enter the 
informant’s mind till she saw Carlota look 
frantically around and then dart toward the 
nearest opening in the inner wall. This was 
not in the direction of the hall of justice, but it 
led — somewhere! and through it the child ran, 
crying at the top of her voice ; 

“Carlos! My Carlos! Where are you?” 

Then she was confronted by an aged woman, 
who caught and almost viciously questioned 
her: 

“Would you rush before the wise men thus 
—you?” 

“Wise? A'ou mean wicked — wicked! Oh, 
my father, my father ! Why did we ever leave 
Refugio!” and shrieking, she threw herself 
prone on the floor and buried her face in her 
arms. 


CHAPTER XXVII 


BY DIFFEBENT TONGUES 

^‘Refugio.’’ 

The word was magic. The angry woman 
who had laid hand upon Carlota’s shoulder 
started at the sound and intently regarded the 
unhappy child. Then she stooped and again 
touched her, but, this time, with gentle, tremu- 
lous fingers. 

‘‘Say that again, Senorita. Again.” 

The girl sprang up, for to hear the familiar 
Spanish was, also, magic. 

“What? Who are you? It was Refugio, I 
said. The House of Refuge — which this is not ! 
Why — ^why?” 

The wrinkled face softened to comeliness, 
and a look grew upon it which tempted Carlota 
to clasp it between her own two palms, in a 
dainty fashion she had, and to beseech : 

“Ho you know Refugio? Have you ever 
been at my home ? ’ ^ 

“Are you the Master’s daughter?” 

263 


264 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

‘^Yes, oh! yes. Do you know him? Is he, 
too, here?’’ 

The woman shook her head. 

‘^No. Wliy should he be here? But I know 
the place, yes. In my heart of hearts, why 
not? And the blessed Lady who died for my 
A poor son. Pablo, soul of my life, afflicted of 
God, Pablo — the natural, where are you this 
day!” 

^ Pablo’? The ^Lady of Refugio’? Then 
— who are you?” 

Carlota was now upon her knees before the 
trembling creature whose memory had been so 
strangely stirred. But, at sight of her thus 
humbled, the crone herself stood up and set the 
child upon a bench. Still standing, she burst 
into a rapid story of that which has been 
already told: of Pablo’s desperate illness and 
his nursing back to health by the all-loving 
‘‘Lady of Refugio.” How that name, that 
household, was a spell to conjure by; and that 
here — ^if she who had long ago married a 
Pueblo had influence — the children of Refugio 
should have rich and speedy justice. More: 
there could be nothing too good or sacred in the 
whole tribe for them. 


BY DIFFERENT TONGUES 


265 


^^Come, little girl. Let us go. Ah! proud, 
proud am I thus once to lay my hand upon the 
flesh of her who died to save my sonF’ 

‘‘Is Pablo here?” 

“Not now. Sometimes he comes, far, far 
between. He is not like others. Against my 
father’s will I married and I have been pun- 
ished, yes. Against his will and against the 
faith I had been taught by the good Padres. 
I was happy, why not? Till my husband, a 
brave, fell dead in the field, gored by one of his 
own cattle. My son is happier than I, for he 
knows neither sin nor its punishment. But, 
come. I can still be of use. Come. ’ ’ 

The councilors were amazed by the intrusion 
of old Paula and her charge, but listened re- 
spectfully to her story and her plea. She was 
reputed to be very wise and was known to be a 
most excellent nurse. True, those hardy Pu- 
eblos rarely required nursing, yet, when they 
did, it were well to be friends with her who 
ministered to them. The dose might be wrong 
if the giver were offended. 

When she ceased speaking Carlos was imme- 
diately brought out of his dark room and set 
in the midst ; and to see the twins rush, sobbing. 


266 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


yet laughing, into each other arms touched 
even those stolid Indians and inclined some to 
lenient judgment. 

Yet, it was the eldest man speaking, and he 
must be heard: 

‘‘Brothers, he stole our horse. From our 
own wild herd. We have been greatly har- 
assed. Punishment is just. If we make not 
example of the bird in the hand, how deal with 
the bird uncaught? There is peace between us 
and our white brothers but — our white broth- 
ers still steal our horses. This youth is swift 
of aim ; he is proud ; a Pueblo of whom to say : 
‘Behold, a brave!’ His father — ” a sugges- 
tive shrug of the shoulders intimated that this 
unknown father was recreant and had deserted 
his offspring. “Let him be to us a son and she 
our daughter. This is my wisdom.” 

Then the council gravely laid the matter 
before the youthful prisoner and listened 
closely to his simple reply, which, acting as 
interpreters, old Paula and Carlota eagerly 
translated. 

“On my father’s rancho are many herds of 
horses. All are wild. I did not ask to whom 
they belonged. When I wished I sought one, 


BY DIFFERENT TONGUES 


267 


as I did from yours. I have been taught the 
art. I am not a thief. I, I would not have 
‘stolen,’ no. Not if I walked all the days of 
my life. But I thought the free creatures of 
the plains were God’s, alone. Well, then; if 
1 did wrong I will take punishment, as should 
the son of man who is brave. After you have 
done your will I will go. Nothing can make me 
stay. My father has not forever left his chil- 
dren. Since he comes not it is because, for 
some reason I do not know, that he cannot. 
My sister and I will go to him, and tell him this 
story. He will restore what is due. I owe 
nothing to anyone except good will, and that I 
will pay as I may. Moreover — you still have 
the horse — and 1 broke hhn for you/^ 

The naive conclusion of the argument was 
so consistent with the childish pleader that 
some of those stern judges smiled. After all, 
he was but a boy and he spoke the truth; and 
the old chief who would have liked to rear the 
youngster as his own was even more desirous 
now. But he was just, and it was he who first 
extended the hand-clasp of peace. 

Radiant with joy at their dismissal, the twins 
left the hall of justice and returned where they 


S68 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

had left Dennis. He had vanished, yet, while 
they were searching the many roofs they heard 
his voice in one of the courtyards below. 

‘‘Hark! The foolish fellow! He imagines 
that hallooing so loud will make them under- 
stand him as well as if he knew their lan- 
guage!’’ said Carlota, with a little air of 
superiority. Indeed ! Where would they 
have been now if she hadn’t been able to talk 
with old Paula? 

“Ha, Carlota! I’m learning some lessons, 
too, of another sort — these days. I’ll lasso 
no more horses till I know whose they are! 
But, come on! It’s so good to be free again 
and Dennis is surely getting into trouble. 
Why, what’s the matter with his arm?” 

As they descended to the court and the Irish- 
man, Carlota explained. He was now trying 
to “swop” with a young Indian; his broncho 
for a pack-burro. 

“Hurry! Tell them, sister! He’ll make 
them mad, directly, and — I don’t wish any 
more Pueblo anger, if you please! It wasn’t 
of the noisy kind but — I’ll be glad when we’re 
once more on the road toward our father, and 
I wish we hadn’t to go back to the Burnhams. 


BY DIFFERENT TONGUES 


269 


While I was alone in that horrible darkness, I 
did a lot of thinking, and I believe that father 
went to the big city of New York, where the 
‘enemies’ came from, on some business for the 
rich men who own the mountains he ‘pros- 
pected.’ Anyway, I think that’s where we’d 
best seek him.” 

“Isn’t that a far, far place*? Is it in the 
‘north’!” 

“Yes. But we can go and go, day after day, 
can’t we!” 

“I — I s’pose so,” she slowly answered. 

But this “wild goose chase” was losing its 
charm for Carlota, and she now often thought 
of the Captain’s opinion that they should never 
have left home, unless bidden to do so by a 
wiser man than Miguel. 

However, here was Dennis, forgetting his 
trading operations in delight at reunion with 
Carlos; and here, too, was unusual commotion 
among the villagers. Because Paula would 
insist that this should a fiesta, a day of merry 
frivolity, such as suited her Mexican nature, 
which age had not wholly altered. 

The children’s impatience at delay was over- 
ruled. Indeed, the affair proved to be one to be 


S70 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


forever remembered, for the fiesta lasted more 
than three days; so that it was well along in 
the morning of the fourth day before the guests 
for whom the holiday was made were allowed 
to depart. Even then, they did not go alone. 
Two young men acted as guides to direct them 
whither the Burnhams had probably encamped. 
Paula, also, went; riding an ancient and most 
sedate burro, as black as her own hair that 
even yet had not a thread of white mixed in it. 

When they had been bidden a last, grave 
farewell by the assembled Pueblos, the children 
were led out upon the terrace and there a fresh 
surprise awaited them. 

‘‘What is this! Why — what!’’ asked Car- 
lota, her eyes shining with anticipation, for, by 
the instincts of her own generous heart, she 
already guessed the truth. 

Paula laughed, like one who had suddenly 
regained her youth, and answered gayly : 

“One wouldn’t wish the mouse-colored, 
blazed-face burro die of loneliness by the way, 
is it not!” 

‘ ‘ Tell me, quick, quick ! Oh ! Paula, tell ! ’ ’ 

“That grown up baby, Dennis! Soul of 
my life, what has he to do with a horse! A 


BY DIFFERENT TONGUES 




pack-donkey is even too good for one wlio 
would run a friend through with a knife, yes.’' 

‘‘But the beautiful horse, Paula, what of 
him ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Shall one of the Master ’s children ride and 
not the other? ’Tis a fine animal, he chose 
well from the wildings, and he conquered the 
wildness well. It befits that to the finder the 
spoils. So the council now decree. Ha! ’Tis 
a proud, handsome lad; he they would have 
made a Pueblo brave ! I — I wish — if my poor 
Pablo — ’’ 

Carlota’s arms were around the old mother’s 
neck and she was kissing away the gloom 
which rested on the wrinkled face, crying: 

“Ah ! dear Paula ! You have been so good to 
us ! Up in her Heaven my happy mother must 
know and love you for the help you have given 
her straying children. And we will find him, 
that Pablo you love. Miguel and many shall 
hunt for him everywhere, and when he is found 
he shall be led to you here. Believe me, he 
shall. And for the rest — thank you, thank 
you, thank you ! ” 

“In truth then, should I die in peace. If he 
were here he would be safe. The Pueblos 


27a CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


honor the ‘touched of God.’ Alas! the Ameri- 
canos taunt and jeer them.” 

“Believe me. I feel — I know — he will come 
back to you some day, and soon.” 

Gayly, they rode forward all that day and 
toward sunset had come so far into the moun- 
tains that the guides could clearly point their 
further route. They halted in a beautiful spot-, 
where there was abundant water and verdure, 
and they had their packs well-filled by their re- 
cent hosts. Yet, with the deep emotions of 
those who live close to nature, they long lin- 
gered over the parting ; and even Dennis, on his 
new and quiet mount, appeared thoughtful and 
serious. He seemed either to have adopted the 
silence of his Indian escort or to be afflicted by 
the prospect of another journey into unknown 
places and dangers. 

Carlota had her botany-box piled with her 
other belongings upon her burro, and though 
Carlos had left his own cherished hammer in 
the Burnham’s wagon, he had been given an- 
other of Indian shaping which, because of its 
flint-stone head, he thought far superior. Said 
Carlota, as she sat down by the old woman on 
a boulder ; 


BY DIFFERENT TONGUES 


273 


‘‘You see, Paula, we, too, are ‘prospecting,’ 
same as our father did. The good Burnhams 
hope to find some traces somewhere of gold, or 
silver, or something else that would mean 
money. I know many sorts of flowers that 
bloom in mining lands. That is, I know about 
them, for my father told me. He showed me 
pictures, too, that he himself had painted. I 
could tell the real ones in a minute, if I only 
could find some. Then Mr. Burnham could 
pay back to the rich old lady, that lives away 
off, all the debt he owes her and that he calls 
his ‘life’s burden.’ We, would be doing good 
if we could help him, and to do good is all it’s 
worth living for, my father says.” 

“Would that I might see him! That blessed 
Master.” 

“Oh! you will. When you come to Refugio, 
as we planned.” 

Paula sighed. Then she caught up the lit- 
tle brown hand and laid it against her own, far 
browner from age and wrinkled like a shriv- 
eled fruit. 

“To the grave is far, when one is young, but 
the way is short for me. However, is it flowers 
and gold! Hola! There is far better in these 


274^ CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

mountains. My husband often told me. 
Sometimes, also, he would bring me a bit of 
that stutf. With it he would make a brave fire, 
great heat and dancing flames. Ah! yes. He 
should be rich, he said; then he would take me 
back to my birth-town and we would sport it 
with the best. Then the cruel bull gored him 
to death and here am I. Ah! life is strange, 
but death is stranger. Else, had my husband, 
who was wise, have lived; and the son who 
knows naught but — ’’ 

More to divert the woman ^s thoughts than 
because she had really heeded what had been 
said, Carlota begged for a further talk about 
the wondrous ‘‘stuff’’ which would bum and 
warm old blood to youth again and which 
painted flame-pictures for men to see. 

de mi} Cared I for that? Well, then, 
for love I had left that birth-town and with 
love I was content. Nothing else mattered. 
I — a woman is so foolish ! Dearer to me were 
the flowers my husband brought and thrust in 
my dark hair than the ugly black stuff he 
burned. ’ ’ 

Paula observed that the young men had 


1 Woe is me. 


BY DIFFERENT TONGUES 


275 


turned their faces homeward and were impa- 
tiently waiting for her to join them. They 
dared not hasten her by words, for their tribe 
held age in honor, and she was held to be wise 
beyond most. But she would delay just a bit 
longer and amuse the pretty child who begged 
a tale of a flower ; then farewell ! forever. 

‘‘What color had those blossoms, Paula? If 
red or yellow they must have been brave in 
your dark hair. Tell me, so that when I find 
one I can say: ‘This is for dear Paula,’ and 
put it in my own curls — if it will stay there.” 

The woman laughed, well pleased. 

“Will you, nina? I love you, for your own 
sweet face and because you are your mother’s 
child. The flowers? Si. Wear them, wear 
them, always. They are better for you than 
for me. They are blue and fit well your fair- 
ness. Blue and shaped — thus.” 

She took a small leaf and with deft, love- 
taught fingers fashioned a simple model which, 
to the plant-wise Carlota, suggested a blossom 
she could readily identify. Then she swiftly 
rose and clasped the child in her arms, saying: 

*^Adios, beloved, sun-gleam on a darkened 
life. May angels go with each step on the way 


^76 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


until the father you miss shall clasp you close 
again. AdiosV^ 

The little girl felt a desolate heart-sinking 
as the three Pueblos almost immediately disap- 
peared. Then she reproached herself for tears, 
since Carlos was with her, safe and free, and 
now the jubilant possessor of a beautiful horse 
that was, in truth, ‘‘almost as handsome as Be- 
noni,’^ and which was, hereafter, to bear that 
beloved creature’s own name though he could 
never take the old Benoni’s place. 

There was nothing to fear, now. The guides 
had taught Dennis how to draw the tethers 
around a bit of ground in such a manner as to 
keep all reptiles from intruding upon this cir- 
cular space where the wanderers would safely 
sleep. Carlota began to watch the Irishman at 
his labors and, idly, to study the ground he en- 
closed. A last ray of sunlight stole through 
the branches overhead and touched to glory a 
bit of herbage almost at her very feet. 
Touched one fragment of it that, seeing, the 
child was thrilled to intense surprise and stared 
so long and so fixedly, that, at last, Carlos teas- 
ingly cried: 


BY DIFFERENT TONGUES 


277 


^^Why, little sister, you look as if you were 
seeing ghosts F’ 

With a little gasp she aroused from her rev- 
ery and answered very gravely: 

‘‘Carlos, I believe I amF’ 


CHAPTER XXVin 


AT THE POINT OF DEATH 

Carlota was awakened by the sun shining 
upon her face and Connemara nibbling at her 
curls. She sprang up, confused by her new 
surroundings, then laughed aloud at the beauty 
of the morning. The loneliness of the last 
evening had vanished and she was ready for 
whatever might come. First, for a frolic with 
Carlos or Dennis. 

These two yet lay sleeping, their feet toward 
the ashes of their bedtime fire and their heads 
almost touching the ring of prickly, horsehair 
ropes which marked out their tiny camp; and 
over which, the Pueblos had assured them, no 
reptile of delicate skin would crawl. 

In a mood to tease, Carlota now picked up 
these tethers and started to bind her brother’s 
hands with them. The first touch roused him 
and, finding what she would be at, he entered 
so noisily into the fun that Dennis, also, awoke. 

278 


AT THE POINT OF DEATH 


279 


Whist! to ye. Sure, now’s not the time to 
be stirrin’ yet, is it?” 

‘‘Quite time, good Dennis. How is the arm! 
How did you sleep ! Did you hear any of the 
wild beasts that you imagined were going to 
surround us ? ” 

“Never a one did I, but a thankful man I’ll 
be, more by token, when I feels a good roof 
overhead once more. Not an Injun roof but a 
fine Christian sort. Arrah musha ! ’Tis a 
load, is this barrowful o’ mud them queer peo- 
ple have piled on me arm, so it is!” 

“Dennis! Dennis, the Grumbler! If it 
wasn’t a ‘good Christian roof’ you’ve slept un- 
der these last few nights, I don’t know what 
you’d call one. You went to that pueblo with 
murder in your heart and its owners treated 
you — splendidly. They fed you, nursed you, 
and mended you — bones and clothes. For you 
were a rough sight, my Dennis, till Paula sewed 
up the rips you’d given your grand attire in 
struggling with Cork. Poor Cork ! to be 
‘swopped’ for a — mule!” 

“Sure, a burro’s no mule. A burro’s a don- 
key; an’ a donkey is a sweet little beast, like 
they have in old Ireland. But the creatur’s no 


S80 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


name, so that job must be done over again, be- 
like. ’ ’ 

^^Oh! if you ‘swopped’ animals, you must 
have ‘swopped’ names. I got Carlota to ask 
and this one’s name is a wicked one, Dennis, 
it’s ^Diablo/ ” said Carlos. 

“Yes, I know, I know, I was bearin’ that 
same but I’ll not have it. No, indeed. Troth, 
no name at all is better nor a bad one.” 

“I’ll tell you. Call him ‘Captain’ after the 
real Captain who was so kind to us. I’m 
afraid he isn’t a good tempered beast, but that 
doesn’t matter. He’ll have plenty of work to 
do, here in the mountains, and — I’m hungry! 
Dennis, shall I wash your face for you, or can 
you do it for yourself with your well hand?” 
asked Carlota. 

“Wash me face! Wash — me — face? An’ 
sure is it dirty?” 

“Dirty? Of course, it is. Haven’t you been 
asleep? Isn’t it morning? Doesn’t every- 
body need to freshen themselves after sleep- 
ing? I don’t think you’re really awake yet.” 

“Arrah musha! But I’m more nor wide 
awake enough than to be lettin’ the likes o’ 
yourself do such a service for the poor lad 


AT THE POINT OF DEATH 


281 


from Connemara. Och! the purty thackeen!’’ 

F ortunately the broken arm was not the right 
one, therefore Dennis conld do most needful 
things for himself and soon grew so handy 
with one hand’’ that he also did much for the 
others. 

All during their happy and simple break- 
fast which they ate by the spring, Carlos ob- 
served his sister’s eyes continually roving 
over the ground and, finally, he asked : 

^^For what are you looking, girlie! Have 
you lost anything!” 

^^Yes, and no. I’m looking for something I 
thought I saw, last night. Something about 
which old Paula told me. I was sure I saw 
it — one — just after she went away; but, I 
don’t see it now, and maybe I only dreamed 
it.” 

‘^Well, if you’ve finished breakfast we must 
be off. I’m afraid the Burnhams will think 
we are lost, for good.” 

Maybe we were!” said Carlota, myster- 
iously. 

‘‘What do you mean!” 

“You said ‘lost for good.’ It may prove the 
best kind of good to them and everybody.” 


282 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


don’t see how,” returned the lad, who 
hated ‘^riddles.” 

and by. I’ll tell you — if there’s anything 
to tell. I’m keeping my eyes open, as our 
father bade us. He said that the habit of ob- 
serving everything and calling nothing a trifle 
—Why, sometimes some of the little bits of 
things led up to the very, very biggest ones. 
It was a little thing Paula told me about, and 
I’m watching for it.” 

And I’m on the watch for the camp ! Come 
on. I’ll put all the saddles on. They’re a 
nuisance. I’d rather ride without any, only 
it didn’t seem polite to say so when the Pueb- 
los gave them to us.” 

‘^But, brother, they’re not much of saddles. 
Not like that Dennis gave away with Cork. 
They’re soft and ‘ blanket-y like, and I guess 
we’re more comfortable with them. Which 
way, first P ’ 

‘‘Right on and up the canyon. The Indians 
said that it leads to some mining camps, and 
they thought we might find the Burnhams there. 
Or, anyway, hear news of them, if any of the 
miners have seen them. If there are any min- 


AT THE POINT OF DEATH 


283 


ers left. If — if — if! I’m tired of Hfs,’ so 
let’s hurry on!” 

They set off, at once. They divided their 
simple luggage among them, the twins insist- 
ing that the disabled Dennis should take but 
the lightest portion upon his burro. Carlos 
'rode first, leading the way and having some 
trouble with his new Benoni. Dennis followed 
next and Carlota last, that she might look out 
for him. For as she said, with a laugh: 

‘‘A broken-armed man must be handled with 
care ! And, aren’t you glad you learned to ride 
Cork, first? If you hadn’t learned when you 
were well, you could hardly have managed to 
do so now.” 

^‘True for ye. But if this ain’t the road that 
beats all! Faith, here’s more stones nor ever 
I saw in me life ! ’ ’ 

Indeed, that canyon was a rough place, and 
they followed toward its source the brawling 
stream that ran through it. Sometimes they 
were in the water, sometimes out of it. Some- 
times they had to cling to the precipitous sides, 
leaving their animals to their own devices. 
Again, though rarely, they would reach a freer 


^84. CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


space, where were myriads of flowers and tree- 
shaded nooks. They ate their mid-day meal at 
one such spot and here, for the first time, they 
found traces of other human beings. 

Carlota was poking about among the bloom- 
ing plants, scrutinizing each and selecting 
‘^specimens’’ for her box, when she caught 
sight of something blue and small. 

“The flower! The flower!” she cried and 
ran to gather it. 

But it was no flower. It was a torn scrap of 
coarse blue gingham. 

At her cry, Dennis rushed forward. He 
was, as they told him, “centipede mad,” and, 
at any unusual sound, his instant thought was 
of peril from the creeping thing. 

“Where is it! Where! Wait till I beats 
the life out o’ him, the nasty beast!” 

She waved the bit of cloth before his eyes 
and he exclaimed: 

“ The . tie-before o’ the little gossoon!” 

“What! What is it!” asked Carlos, run- 
ning forward. 

“Teddy!” answered his sister, holding out 
the scrap of cloth. 


AT THE POINT OF DEATH 


285 


/‘It is! Surely. Yet — that wasn’t torn to- 
day. It’s been hanging there a good while. 
See the edges.” 

Carlota’s heart sank, as she replied: 

‘ ‘ When I saw it I thought we had only to call 
out and they would hear us. I almost fancied 
I could see the little fellow’s face peeping at me 
from the very bush. Anyway, we must be on 
the right road and that does make it easier to 
go on.” 

It did, indeed. Each felt a renewed patience 
for the toilsome search, though they were not 
immediately to come upon any further trace of 
the family they sought. That night they slept 
within a rocky cove and Dennis dreamed of 
hobgoblins and “phookas,” galore. His 
snores and outcries were so constant and dis- 
turbing that before daylight fairly came, all 
were awake and ready to move on. 

The fact was that poor Dennis was growing 
feverish and somewhat light headed. His arm, 
in its heavy dressings, was painful and exceed- 
ingly heavy. His great boots cumbered him. 
He was homesick and full of forebodings ; and, 
as the morning advanced, the twins felt seri- 


286 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


ously alarmed. When they pressed him to 
take some food, he peevishly declined it, pro- 
testing: 

‘‘No. I don’t want it. Take it away. Yes, 
I know, I know. Eatin’s fine for them that 
likes it. Not for me. Arrah mnsha! We’ll 
never find they we are seekin’. When I left 
Mr. Grady, ‘Dennis,’ says he, ‘you’re crazy,’ 
says he. ‘Ye’ll die in them mountains,’ says 
he, ‘an’ what’ll I do for a neighbor to wrastle 
with, when home we goes to old Ireland an’ 
yourself dead,’ says he. Troth, that same was 
the truth he was speakin’.” 

Carlota was at her wits’ end. Dennis ob- 
stinately refused to touch any food or to go on- 
ward another step. 

“Dennis, Dennis! How silly to talk about 
a dead man’s wrestling! and Dennis Fogarty! 
how mean to go and die — die — right in sight, 
almost, of our journey’s end! I thought you 
loved your ‘little lady,’ dear Dennis. Do you 
s’pose my Miguel would do anything so — so 
disappointing as to go and die, just because 
he wouldn’t eat, if I didn’t want him to? No. 
In truth! He’d live a hundred years, first, like 
old Guadalupo. He would so ! ” 


AT THE POINT OF DEATH 


m 


A faint fire fiashed in the tired eyes of the 
ex-trackman. He had quite decided to die. 
He felt, that under existing circumstances, life 
was too much to expect of any man. ‘‘Little 
lady?^’ Yes. Of course he loved her. She 
needn’t persist in taunting him with that 
wretched “Greaser.” Besides, anyhow, she 
had Carlos. They were all in all to each other, 
those two. They didn’t need him. His work 
was done. He had vindicated his manliness. 
He was very ill. Arrah musha! Very ill, in- 
deed. Still, in the approved western style, he 
would “die with his boots on.” But he would, 
he wanted to, they needn’t — 

‘ ‘ Look out ! The lion — the lion ! ’ ’ 

“Bang! Bang! Bang-bang-BANG!” 


CHAPTER XXIX 


CAMP BUKNHAM 

Never came mortal back to life so suddenly 
as Dennis! He was the first on his feet. His 
yells were keyed to a pitch and volume that 
would have terrified any lion which ever 
roamed the forest, and especially that timid, 
sneaking creature which assumes the name of 
a nobler animal. From the tree above the cow- 
ardly beast looked down upon the group. Its 
eyes gleamed wickedly, yet its whole lithe body 
quivered in fear, for it had been pursued to its 
own destruction. 

‘‘Bang! R-r-r-rip — ^flash — BANG!’’ 

It fell at their very feet, so to speak, and then 
did Dennis believe that his hour had really 
come. 

“Och! murder! me soul! That ever I 
should have lived — to die!” and, almost para- 
lyzed by fright he, too, fell down. 

With a mutual impulse of protection, the 
288 


CAMP BURNHAM 


289 


children clung together, too startled for speech ; 
and it was not until the lion, or puma, had been 
lifeless for some seconds that they released 
each other and peered into the forest whence 
the shot had come. Thence now, also, came the 
crashing of branches and soon there hurried 
into view — Mr. Burnham! 

He paused, as astonished as they; then, with 
a shout of delight, the trio rushed together. 

^ ^ Oh ! have we found you f ^ ’ 

‘‘Dear children! I might have killed you 
when I fired! How came you here!’^ 

“But you didnT. You only killed the lion. 
Where are the rest ? Is everybody well ? Mrs. 
Burnham? Teddy? And Jack? Are you 
camping near? Can we go now? Did you 
think we were lost? Oh! we have been — 
but — ’’ 

Nobody thought of Dennis, for a moment, 
and he still lay, fancying himself dying. Then 
he heard the voices. One seemed strangely 
familiar, yet he was powerless to move till the 
station master comprehended who it was that 
lay huddled beside the dead puma, and called: 

“Dennis! Dennis, are you hurt, lad?’’ 

The ex-trackman groaned. 


SdO CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘Why — is it so! That’s bad, indeed! 
Where are you wounded! Did I shoot you, or 
that creature spring upon you ! ’ ’ 

“Och! I’m dead. I’m dead, entirely.” 

“Guess not. Try to get up. Why, what’s 
the matter here, with your arm! This is no 
beast-scratch.” 

Both at once, the twins rapidly told their 
story and, by his own wit, the newcomer 
learned the main facts. He was very sorry for 
Dennis but felt that the Irishman’s present col- 
lapse was due to fear and disappointment, 
rather than approaching death. He remem- 
bered that among the traits of his old employee 
was a fondness for good food, so urged: 

“Come on, my fine fellow. The mistress is 
cooking such a supper yonder, in our little 
camp, as will put new life into your ‘dead’ 
limbs — instanter ! Brook trout — broiled on 
wood coals; fresh biscuits; wild honey that 
Jack found in a tree; with cresses from the 
same stream that furnished the trout. How’s 
that! Come. Get up. I’ll help you. What 
a beautiful horse! Both burros yours! Ah! 
I recall — the Pueblos. Well, I must go. Leti- 
tia will be anxious. Every time any of us 


CAMP BURNHAM 


291 


move, now, she fears we’re going forever. 
Come to supper, Dennis?” 

‘‘Yes, I know, I know. Thanky, but — I 
couldn’t. No, I couldn’t.” 

“Very well. Suit yourself. I’ll lead your 
donkey forward and you follow when you 
choose.” 

Carlota was distressed and looked anx- 
iously into Mr. Burnham’s face; then caught a 
twinkle in his eye which belied his apparent 
indifference. 

“What will you do about the puma?” asked 
Carlos, somewhat envious of the fine shooting 
which had brought down the animal. 

“Leave it for the present. Its skin is worth 
coming back for but the good news of your re- 
turn mustn’t be kept from the others any 
longer. Come, all of you.” 

“This way? Straight ahead?” 

“Yes. Where you see the trail divide — ^be- 
yond that tree — a fork of it goes down into 
what appears to be a ‘bottomless pit.’ I have 
explored the gulch for a little distance, but 
found no traces of anything I sought. Thus 
far — it’s all been seeking and no finding,” fin- 
ished Mr. Burnham, with a sigh. 


292 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘Well, it’s only such a little while. Not 
many days yet.” 

“No, lad, but they’ve seemed long to my wife. 
Yonr safe return will put new life and courage 
into us all.” 

“I hope so,” cheerfully responded Carlota. 

But Carlos was silent. For them both and 
without consulting her again, he had decided 
that, after a brief stop with their friends, they 
would resume their own interrupted journey 
toward the “north” and the father they must 
find. Mr. Burnham observed the boy’s silence 
but made no comment on it, and they started 
onward through the canyon leading the ani- 
mals, for riding was both perilous and uncom- 
fortable. They had speedily left the smooth 
glade where they had rested and met, and now 
the canyon walls rose sheer and almost impass- 
able. 

Carlota continually looked back and, at a mo- 
ment when they paused to take breath, she 
whispered to her brother : 

“I can’t bear to leave good, kind Dennis 
there, alone. Maybe he is really dying! I 
must go back and see.” 


CAMP BURNHAM 


293 


Carlos, also, peered into the dimness behind 
and nudged her. A creeping, awkward figure 
was following them, in a shame-faced way, as 
if unwilling to acknowledge his own mistaken 
statements — honest Dennis, very much alive ! 

“Poor fellow ! He was really sick and fever- 
ish, terribly tired, and homesick for even such 
a place as Leopard or Tuttle — any spot where 
there were ^Christian roofs’ and white-skinned 
people. As Paula called him, he ’s but a grown 
up baby, after all. You mustn’t laugh at him, 
brother dear, when he comes up with us, nor 
act as if you remembered a bit of his foolish- 
ness. Promise.” 

“All right, Carlota. I don’t promise — , but 
I’ll take care.” 

So they went gayly on again, and it was the 
sound of their happy voices which brought 
mother and sons running down the slope from 
Camp Burnham to meet them. Letitia and 
Carlota clasped and reclasped one another, 
half-laughing, half-crying, and at first, too 
deeply moved for speech. But grave little 
Teddy neither laughed nor cried. He merely 
observed : 


294 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


^^Muwer, she did find the piece of my ap^on 
what I tored. She has got it in her jacket. 
Now you can mend it.’^ 

Then Carlota turned about and saw him 
standing, arms akimbo, in all the dignity of his 
first, rough little camping- twousers,’’ calm 
and unruffled, as if being lost and found again 
were but an ordinary incident of the day. 

‘‘You darling! Have you missed me? 
Missed your ‘new sister,’ Carlota?” 

“Nope.” 

‘ ‘ 0, Teddy ! Why haven ’t you ? ’ ’ 

“Been a-fishin’. Catched a fish an’ cooked 
him. Teddy’s hungwy. Come to supper.” 

Happy Mrs. Burnham seconded the request: 

“Yes, come to supper, everybody! After 
that for a nice long talk, and everything told 
that’s befallen you from the moment you left 
us till this. But, Jack? Why, where’s Jack?” 

He came, slipping and sliding down the 
steep behind the little clearing where they had 
pitched their tent, and where the white 
“schooner” now did duty as storehouse and 
general utility apartment. 

“Hello! Master-cut-and-come-again ! So 

you’re back? Well, I’m glad of it. Need you 


CAMP BURNHAM 


295 


to help forage. Never saw such appetites as 
my relatives have. Father spends his time 
tapping and digging around in the ground, and 
the cares of providing fresh ‘ butcher ^s meat,’ 
fresh fish, fresh fruit, fresh water, fresh every- 
thing — devolves upon yours truly. Say, I 
wish you’d sell me that lasso of yours. I need 
it. Honor bright. What’ll you take? Oh, 
Carlota? You here? Howdy.” 

The overjoyed lad affected his usual indiffer- 
ence, yet, as he threw upon the ground before 
them the results of his afternoon with the rod 
and line, and his father’s second-hand shot-gun, 
his honest pride made his homely features good 
to see. 

‘^Where’s my Dennis?” suddenly demanded 
Teddy. 

‘^Coming, yonder. Run and meet him and 
tell him how glad you are to have him back,” 
suggested Carlota. 

Without comment, Teddy obeyed, and 
promptly brought the last member of the party 
to enjoy that famous supper. Nor, though 
they sat late around the camp-fire, exchanging 
confidences, did anybody mention the possibil- 
ity of ‘ ^ dying. ’ ’ 


CHAPTEE XXX 


THE BLUE FLOWEK AND THE BLACK BOCK 

‘‘Yes, go, my dear, I don’t want you to sit 
here alone, so constantly, or so continually to 
toil for somebody. Oh! you precious comfort! 
I should have died here, in the wilderness, but 
for your tender care ! ’ ’ 

“No, no, Mrs. Burnham. Don’t say that. I 
was here and I’ve done what I could. That’s 
all. It’s so good to know you are getting bet- 
ter!” answered Carlota, who was far less rosy 
and gay than when, so many weeks before, she 
had reached Camp Burnham, where they still 
remained. 

On the morning after her arrival, Carlota 
had been awakened by a cry of alarm, and, 
half-aroused, had seen Mrs. Burnham unstead- 
ily leaning against the wagon-end. A second 
later, the cry of pain was repeated and she saw 
the woman fall; and from that moment until 
now life had seemed a terrible dream. 

296 


BLUE FLOWER AND BLACK ROCK 297 


The frail Letitia, upon whose cheerful self- 
sacrifice rested everybody’s comfort, had sud- 
denly collapsed. An old weakness of the heart 
had returned to strike her down at a moment, 
when it seemed to her, she could less be spared 
than ever before. 

^‘Well, IVe had to lie still. There was no 
help for it ; and again, my dear, I say that I be- 
lieve God sent you to me when you came. In- 
experienced child though you were, your devo- 
tion and care have saved me.” 

A bed of pine boughs within a tent may not 
be the most luxurious of couches, yet had Mrs. 
Burnham chosen from all the world she could 
scarcely have selected a spot more conducive to 
recovery from such an illness. She now con- 
tinued, looking around upon all her dear ones, 
clustered before the opening of her tent: 

‘‘You have done your helpful share, each one. 
But I am really much, much stronger, and I 
want Carlota to go off with her brother for a 
long, delightful day by themselves. Her ber- 
ry-brown face is getting bleached by staying 
indoors — even in a canvas indoors — till it al- 
most matches her hair. That won’t do. Be- 
sides, since we haven’t found here what we 


298 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


sought, we must move on again very soon. 
This lovely spot has grown to be like home to 
me but — there are others just as fair.’^ 

‘ ^ Oh ! maybe Mr. Burnham will find his ^ lucky 
stone’ right here,” said Carlota, radiant at 
thought of a long quiet day ‘‘by themselves” 
with her precious brother. She knew, too, by 
the way he looked at her, lately, that he had 
something especial to say to her and only 
waited an opportunity to say it. So, taking a 
little luncheon with her and promising that 
they would surely come back before dark, the 
girl set off to find her brother, lounging on the 
rocks below. 

“Oh! how nice it is to be alone, quite by our 
two selves ! They are so good to us, and yet — 
I — Carlos, do you ever think of Refugio now?” 

“Think of it? All the time, almost. I’m 
as glad as you to come by ourselves, for we 
must have a talk. First — ^which way shall we 
go?” 

“Down the canyon to the bend in it and that 
other terrible rocky fork of it. I saw some- 
thing. Oh! I saw something!” said Carlota, 
mysteriously. 

With their arms about each other’s shoul- 


BLUE FLOWER AND BLACK ROCK 299 


ders they gayly ran to that strange rift in the 
mountain side, which disclosed its heart of 
rock. There they sat down upon a jutting 
bowlder to gaze into the awful depths. 

^‘lUs the most — most fascination place I 
ever saw.’’ 

‘‘Pooh! Fascinating is what you mean. 
You quite make me ashamed, sometimes. Car- 
lota, when you forget to be proper in your 
speech.” 

She accepted the reproof with perfect good 
humor : 

“Do I! That’s too bad. But never mind it 
now. Carlos, do you see anything — ^very won- 
derful — down in that — abyss'? Is that the 
right word, darling*?” 

Not being himself sure he evaded the ques- 
tion. 

“It’s the strangest canyon I ever saw. 
Looks as if some mighty giants had taken mon- 
strous sledge-hammers and split the mountain 
in two. As if all its insides were those curi- 
ous, dark stones. But such giants, Carlota! 
They must have been able to reach to the sky ; 
and their hammers would, surely, have weighed 
a thousand thousand tons!” 


300 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘^0, Carlos! They couldn’t be so big!” 

‘^Did I say they were? I said — do pay 
attention, Carlota, and not stare down there 
so ! If you had more imag — imagernation, 
little sister, you would have more enjoyment.” 

‘‘Would I? Seems you aren’t ‘talking’ 
much, only finding out things I ought to do. 
Carlos, I’m going down to the bottomest bot- 
tom of that place!” and, leaning forward, she 
pointed toward the awful chasm. 

“Hmm. Then I guess we’d best begin to 
talk. Say, dear, we can go away now, to find 
our father.” 

“When? And leave poor Mrs. Burnham?” 

“Right away. The very next to-morrow 
that’s coming. She’s ’most well; she says so; 
and besides, though you didn’t know it, they 
are nearly out of food and have no money to 
buy more — even if there were a place to buy it 
in.” His voice was dramatically earnest. 

“Why, there’s all that heap and heap of 
cans.” 

“Empty, Carlota. All empty 

“They can’t be. They’re standing up all 
tight and straight in that cool place by the 
spring. I saw Mr. Burnham fix them.” 


BLUE FLOWER AND BLACK ROCK 301 


^‘Dear, that was to deceive his wife. True. 
The cans are empty. We^re everyone of lis so 
hungry except her, you see, and weVe eaten 
and eaten! There wasnT much to begin with; 
and he knows that if she thought there was 
danger of the food giving out it would kill her. 
She is so very weak. There are the fish, but 
fish three times a day! I’d like a chicken, 
wouldn’t you. Carlo ta! Or a loaf of Marta’s 
bread?” 

“Don’t, please don’t, brother! I’m so — so 
— terr ’ble homesick ! ” 

“I’m afraid that, even now, Mr. Burnham 
thinks his wife will never live to go out of these 
mountains. He’s all discouraged. Last night 
he said to Jack, that if something wasn’t done 
soon we’d all starve. So we must go away. 
We’ll find our father, or if not him quick 
enough, then somebody else who’ll send them 
help. Wasn’t it a pity they ever left Tuttle? 
There they had enough to eat and, pleasant as 
it is here, they were near folks. Mountains 
are nice, but, Carlota, I like folks best.” 

“Well, so do 1. But I love mountains, too. 
I love — I guess I love everything there is. 
And I’m going down into that canyon — if I 


30^ CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

can. Come with me, because I see something! 
I see — something — and if we go away it is 
my last chance. I promised Paula — Come. 
Let’s. Now.” 

He was willing, for care sat lightly upon 
him, as upon her ; and in another moment both 
had forgotten it entirely. For their inspection 
of the chasm was hastened by an accident 
which drove all other matters out of mind. 

There was, apparently, an easy point of 
descent a few yards from where they had been 
sitting, peering over the abyss. Intermingling 
grasses and shrubs grew at the top, upon seem- 
ingly solid ground; but as they touched it, still 
walking hand in hand, it gave way beneath 
their weight and they felt themselves slipping, 
sliding, sinking — they knew not whither. 

Carlota’s face blanched, but she did not cry 
out. Probably, she did not realize the extent 
of their danger as her brother did, for he had 
grown more familiar with the region and knew 
how full it was of ‘^man-traps” and hidden 
perils. Yet, at the first instant of danger, his 
heroism roused : 

‘‘Don’t fear, Carlota! Try — to slide — slow 


BLUE FLOWER AND BLACK ROCK 303 


— hold yourself — back — keep hold of me — and 
— Say your prayers, quick! 

God does not desert those who put their 
trust in him. The children reached the end of 
that terrible slide in safety. The whole down- 
ward passage had been made smooth for them, 
as it were, by the bed of a once rapid waterfall. 
Into this channel had now washed dirt, seeded 
with the rich vegetation of the spot. The 
seeds had found still a little moisture, had 
sprung to life, and had thus prepared a natural 
carpet over which the imperilled ones passed 
to the bottom. But, even thus, their fall was 
so sudden and swift that, for some time after 
it was over they lay crouched and breath- 
less, failing to realize that they were still un- 
hurt. 

Then they looked up and shuddered! At 
any other point they would, inevitably, have 
been torn or mangled. But Carlota’s faith 
was not disturbed by this, which her brother 
saw and suggested. 

‘^But — it wasnH at any other point, Carlos! 
It wasnT. It was just right there where we 
would be safe. God knew. He took all the 


304* CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


care. And — Carlos! Carlos, see there! See 
there! 

She forgot her shaken nerves and trembling 
limbs as she now sprang to her feet and ea- 
gerly pointed forward. 

‘‘Well, what, dear? I see nothing bnt a 
patch of queer blue blossoms. You are flower- 
crazy, I do believe. Was it for them you 
wanted to come down?’^ 

“Yes, yes, oh! yes. Why — don’t you yet 
understand? It is old Paula’s flower! That 
always grows where the black stuff is; the 
stuff which makes a flame and warms the peo- 
ple! See! There’s some of the stone, too. 
Oh! joy, joy! We’ve found what our father 
said was as good and benefaction-y as any gold 
mine ! What he was trying to find for the rich 
men. This is the flower he told me of, the 
same kind that Paula knew. Where it grows 
— Break off some of the black rock, brother! 
Quick! Then let’s get back to the top. We’ve 
found a mine! We — have — found — a — 


CHAPTER XXXI 


IN THE HOSPITAL 

In a private room of a New York hospital, 
a pale, pain-worn man lay resting upon his 
pillows. The surgeons said that he was almost 
fit for discharge, and there was the gleam of 
returning health in his dark eyes and a faint 
color in the firm lips beneath the heavy mous- 
tache. 

He had been looking through his window 
toward the western sky, but his thoughts were 
not upon it, and he scarcely heard his nurse 
when she entered. Ill as he would have 
appeared to anybody who had known him in 
his vigor, his present state and progress were 
satisfactory to her. She announced her 
arrival by asking : 

‘‘Well, Mr. Manuel, have you been sleeping 
any!’’ 

“Thank you, no. I’ve just been dreaming. 
Miss Burnham. I’m very homesick; very 
305 


306 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


restless and anxious to see my children.’^ 

‘‘That’s good. I like to hear my patients 
talk like that. It’s a certain sign of improve- 
ment when their interest in things returns. 
Such an evidence of strength on your part that, 
if you wish, I will read to you whatever you 
fancy. I’m sure you are able to listen and 
enjoy news now.” 

“Can’t I do that for myself? Though the 
doctor did forbid me to use my eyes much 
yet.” 

“Quite right he was. ‘Make haste slowly’ 
and you’ll not regret it.” 

“Haste! when I’ve been here for months!” 

“Better for months than for life — or death. 
What shall I begin with ? ’ ’ she answered, open- 
ing the evening paper as she spoke. 

“Of course, any western, or southwestern, 
news first. The nearest home.” 

“It’s matter that interests me, also. I’ve a 
brother in the southwest; a station master on 
a railway. Some day, when I can, I’m going 
out to see him. Ha! Here’s something. I’m 
always attracted by ‘scare headlines,’ and this 
article should please you, too, since it’s all 
about children and you seem so fond of them.” 


IN THE HOSPITAL 


307 


She let her eyes skim the column 'then 
exclaimed : 

‘‘This is a real fairy tale of wonderful hap- 
penings and touches somewhat upon your own 
line of business. It is forwarded by a special 
correspondent : 

“ ‘Albuquerque, July 17th, 18 — . Discovery 
of a magnificent mine of the finest anthracite 
coal. The discoverers are children under thir- 
teen years of age.’^ 

‘ ‘ Humph ! ’ ’ exclaimed the convalescent, with 
doubting emphasis. 

“The story of this find is as marvellous as 
any tale of romance and the childish discover- 
ers are New Mexican twins. They were born 
somewhere on the border of the United States 
and Mexico and have always lived there. 
Their father is in the business of prospecting, 
or locating, mines for a syndicate of wealthy 
men, and had trained the children to that 
observation of ‘little things’ which he himself 
exercised. The little girl knew that a certain 
flowering plant grows only where coal is to be 
found, and her twin brother had enough knowl- 


308 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


edge of geology to verify the discovery. The 
father of the children, Mr. Adrian Manuel — ’’ 

The newspaper dropped from the reader’s 
hand, and she turned to her patient in swift 
alarm. In his still weak state she dreaded the 
effect of these unexpected tidings, but he ral- 
lied from the startled silence in which he had 
listened, and begged : 

‘‘Go on! Oh! go on — go on!” 

“Mr. Adrian Manuel had, for some unex- 
plained reason, left his home for a trip to the 
‘north,’ leaving his children in the charge of 
his household, supposed to be devoted to him. 
Yet, in some manner, the youngsters learned 
that some strangers who had come to their 
home in their father’s absence were his ‘ene- 
mies’ and would either spirit them away from 
their home and him, or work them some other 
harm. With a faith as great as their igno- 
rance, they set out to ‘find their father.’ 
Needless to say that they have failed; though 
the publicity given their discovery may, also, 
discover the lost parent. 

“They have had lots of adventures, have 
been in a ‘norther,’ an Apache raid, a Pueblo 
village, a visionary miner’s camp, etc., etc. 


IN THE HOSPITAL 


309 


Indeed, it was at this last stopping-place, while 
under the care of the miner Burnham’s fam- 
ily — ” 

Again the paper fell. There was a queer 
sensation about the nurse’s own heart. Burn- 
ham? Her brother? It might be he! 

Mr. Manuel could not wait for her recovery, 
but seized the paper and finished the article for 
himself, and aloud. He was excited, yet not 
hurtfully so. Pride, amazement, infinite grati- 
tude thrilled in his tones. When he finished 
the nurse and her patient could only stare at 
one another in silence. Then habit asserted 
itself and she sternly inquired : 

‘‘Mr. Manuel, did you do this — leave home 
without telling your people where you were 
going and for what?” 

Heretofore, he had been ill, meek and sub- 
missive. Now he had suddenly recovered. 
He grew quite bold and self-assertive, and thus 
convinced the nurse that he was indeed unin- 
jured by this first, startling “news from 
home. ’ ’ 

“Yes. I now see what a foolish thing it was, 
but it didn ’t seem so then. There was so much 
uncertainty — But I can’t talk I I’m well, and 


310 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


— Why in the world hasn’t Miguel been here? 
Or has he? His letter of instructions, it’s past 
time for opening that — I told him he needn’t 
write unless trouble happened. I was deter- 
mined to recover if human will could aid the 
surgeons and I knew that to hear often from 
Refugio would tend to make me restless and so 
hinder my progress. There was plenty of 
money and it is a land where money counts for 
less than friendliness.” 

‘^Why hasn’t the manager been here? 
Probably because that, after he read your let- 
ter, he realized how much depended on your 
peace of mind, which your knowledge of the 
children’s loss would utterly destroy. He 
loved you too well to kill you outright.” 

‘‘But why, then, if my children were in an 
Apache outbreak — the men who rescued them 
— since they must have been rescued — Oh! it’s 
all a dreadful muddle. Somebody should have 
put that into the papers — ” 

“Maybe that was done. How should we 
know? You’ve been in hospital for more than 
two months. During all that time until to-day 
you have neither read for yourself nor listened 
to reading. In any case, the advertising col- 


IN THE HOSPITAL 


311 


umns of the daily press are the last things 
which I, in my busy life, have time for perus- 
ing. But — about that Burnham. I know he 
is my brother. Do you believe he can effect a 
claim to any part of that mine! or — oh! I for- 
got!’^ 

He smiled gayly. 

^‘I donT want you to forget. I want you to 
remember. And — I am going to Albuquerque. 
I start to-night. I’ve thought the details out, 
already. You are going with me, and on the 
same train with the young doctor, that interne, 
who has been so faithful and who needs a vaca- 
tion almost as badly as you do. The trip will 
be glorious. We’ll surprise them all. Our 
interests are mutual. I understand all the 
red-tapeism of settling the claims to this dis- 
covery. What do you say!” 

She was a woman growing old in her benefi- 
cent but toilsome life. The thought of seeing 
that distant family to which her heart so often 
turned was tempting. Besides, when this 
present patient left her care, it would be time 
for her vacation. She was resourceful, and 
deliberated but a moment. 

^‘Yes. We’ll go. All of us.” 


S12 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


‘‘That’s good of you. Thus, under the care 
of my doctor and my nurse, I can make the trip 
in safety, even though I’ve not yet received my 
hospital discharge. Well, if we’re going, as 
my little Carlota would say — ‘Let’s!’ ” 


CHAPTER XXXII 


IN MY LADY^S CHAMBER 

^ ‘ Patterson ! Patterson ! ! Pat-ter — 

son!!!” 

The cane in the old lady’s hand came down 
with a thump. It signified : ^ ‘ Attention ! ’ ’ 

For a moment or more there was no response 
to the summons. Then the irate owner of the 
cane bounced out of her chair and rushed about 
the room, in a half-frantic manner. She 
picked up one article only to toss it aside and 
seize another; but all the time, she tightly 
clutched the newspaper she held. In her 
excitement she had once half-folded the paper 
and had then drawn her thin fingers down its 
folds as if to make it into a staff or mammoth 
taper. 

Presently, the door opened and a stout 
woman entered this richly furnished bedcham- 
ber, whereupon the old lady rushed toward her 
and fairly flourished the paper in the new- 
313 


514 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


comer’s face, wlio was not a wliit disturbed by 
the onslaught and calmly advised : 

‘‘There, Mrs. Sinclair, that will do. I 
wouldn’t go for to put myself in a rage if I was 
you. You’d far better sit down and take your 
drops.” 

‘ ‘ Patterson, where were you 1 ’ ’ 

“Eating my tea.” 

“You’re always ‘eating your tea.’ I won- 
der how you manage the feat. It’s one beyond 
my wit.” 

“Yes, ma’am. I dare say it is.” 

“Patterson, you are impertinent.” 

“Not meanin’ it, ma’am, I’m sure.” 

“No. You never do mean anything. 
That’s the worst of you. If I hadn’t grown so 
accustomed to you — You know what would 
happen, I reckon. 

“Yes, ma’am. You’ve often told me,” an- 
swered the maid, still undisturbed. 

“Well, I generally do mean something. 
Just now, it’s something which, probably, will 
astonish even you — if that is possible.” 

“Yes, ma’am. I think I could be astonished 
if I tried.” 

“Huh! I doubt it. But — try. It would be 


IN MY LADY’S CHAMBER 


315 


sucli a novel sensation. Why, woman alive, if 
it weren’t for my sensations I’d be as wooden-y 
as you are. Patterson, I’m going to Albu- 
querque. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, ma’am.” 

“Ob! you exasperating creature! But — 
I’ve just come from there. A few weeks ago, 
on our way back from California. That’s the 
name of that curious old town that’s so antique 
on one side and so horribly new on the other. 
Yes, I’m going to Al-bu-quer-que. Why don’t 
you ask me what for!” 

“You’ll be sure to tell me, directly, ma’am.” 

“Humph! You are impertinent. I have 
always known it. I consider you so when you 
don’t get excited.” 

“I’m sorry, ma’am.” 

“No, you’re not. Not a bit sorry. You 
didn’t get excited even when I told you I’d 
bought our tickets for a trip around the world. 
Nothing on the trip excited you. Even when 
I talked anarchy in Russia and had to keep my 
tongue so still afterward. You’re not excited 
now, yet — if I chose — ^I could say that which 
would make even your smooth hair stand up 
and ruffle itself.” 


316 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


dare say so, ma’am.’’ 

‘‘Patterson, am I a happy woman?” 

“I’m afraid not, ma’am.” 

“Haven’t I done a lot of good in my life?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“I’ve had bitter sorrows. They’ve made 
me — disagreeable, eh? Well, listen. Once a 
man borrowed my money and died without 
paying it. Because of that debt, which I half- 
forgot, and their silly notions of honor his 
family have always been poor. I didn’t know 
they worried so — ^until it was too late. Then 
I let it go on. It was less, trouble than the 
other way. And exertion is good for — other 
people. Patterson ! leave tidying this room 
and sit down.” 

“Yes, ma’am. It often is ‘too late’ in this 
world.” 

“Why — Patterson! I say, leave tidying 
the room. You’re always at it when you 
aren’t ‘eating your tea,’ and I’ve something to 
tell you, Patterson! Sit down! I bid you. 
I’ve that to tell you that will, that must, wake 
you up at last.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” and something in her mis- 
tress’s manner did catch the attention of this 


IN MY LADY’S CHAMBER 317 

faithful old servant, of long service and short 
speech. 

‘‘Good Patterson — Do you remember 
Mary?” 

Then, indeed, did the “worm turn.” 

“Remember Mary? How can you ask me 
that? Wasn’t I her nurse? Wasn’t she the 
sweetest girl who ever lived? Didn’t I love 
her like my own soul? Ah! indeed, but I do 
remember Mary. It was I who dressed her for 
her wedding, which you’d forbidden. Do 1 
— remember — Maryf^^ 

“There, there. That was fine. Magnifi- 
cent. I thought there was fire in you some- 
where, if a body only had gunpowder enough 
about her to set it flashing. Well — I, too, 
remember Mary. Ah! Patterson! how well!” 

Only one who knew the erratic Mrs. Sinclair, 
as Patterson knew her, could have understood 
that sudden change in her manner which be- 
spoke a broken heart. “Mary.” The never 
forgotten, the always beloved, the forever 
mourned. In that love and in that self-re- 
proachful memory, lay the secret of this strange 
and restless life. 

The little old lady, whose face was wizened 


318 CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

and wan, dropped into her chair and Patterson 
went and stood beside her. 

There, ma’am. I wouldn’t. It’s all past 
and gone. There’s still a heaven where you 
can meet her, even though, as you said, it’s 
too late for this world.” 

Mrs. Sinclair bobbed her head, then looked 
up with a gleam in her eye. “It was you who 
said that, Patterson.” 

“Was it, ma’am I I don’t remember that.” 

“Listen. When I came home from the Pa- 
cific, as usual, I got out at all the stations to 
rest myself.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“At one of them, called Tuttle, which was 
just a man or two, a water-tank and a house, 
with a few other folks thrown in — at this 
wretched spot I saw — two children.” 

“So you said, ma’am.” 

“Excuse me, I said nothing of the kind. I 
never mentioned it. Somebody said they were 
Indian captives, just rescued. When I looked 
at them something went through my heart like 
a shot. Those children made me think of 
Mary. They had eyes like Mary’s And — 


IN MY LADY’S CHAMBER 319 

Patterson, sit down. You’ll need support 
now. ’ ’ 

Patterson immediately dropped upon a 
lounge, but continued to dust little portions of 
the furniture near, with a silk rag she pulled 
from her pocket and went nowhere without. 
But she suddenly ceased her labor and — waked 
up entirely! 

‘‘Hear this Associated Press dispatch. I 
was right. Those little ‘captives’ I saw are 
my Mary’s children. It all fits together like a 
sliced puzzle — when once you start it right. 
Hark 1 ’ ’ 

Then in her clear tones, still unimpaired by 
age, and in an excitement that was now really 
healthful, Mrs. Sinclair read to her old attend- 
ant the same account of the famous “Discov- 
ery” which the hospital nurse had read to her 
convalescing patient. 

She read it once at almost breakneck speed, 
then again, more slowly; and at its conclusion, 
Patterson stood beside the door leading into 
the dressing room, impatient to be gone. 

“Patterson, where are you? What are you 
about? Why donH you — sit down? Where can 


SW CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 

you be going in such frightful haste? Eh? 
What did you say ? ^ ^ 

“To pack our trunks. Pm going to Albu- 
querque. ^ ’ 

“Ha! Wide awake at last! YouTe right. 
We are going hy the first express, to Mary’s 
children at Albuquerque ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


EEFUGIO ONCE MORE 

Mr. Rupert Disbrow so excitedly sprang 
from bis chair and threw down the evening 
paper that his father, calmly reading his own 
Gazette at the other side of the library table, 
ejaculated : 

‘‘Rupert, what has become of your self-con- 
trol? My nerves — They were bad enough be- 
fore we took that wretched trip to the jumping- 
off-place of creation, but now — I must have 
quiet and rest, at least in my own house.’’ 

“But a little excitement of the right sort, will 
do you good, father. Listen, please. I’ll read 
you something and try to do so quietly.” 

“You act queerly, for a lawyer — ” 

“Yes, a lawyer, of course; but first — a man. 
I defy anybody to be composed, who has had 
the experience we’ve had, chasing over half 
this wide country in pursuit of something and 
321 


322 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


returning to find it right here in his own 
library — 

Now seriously alarmed by the strange man- 
ner of his usually sedate son, the elder gentle- 
man rose to ring the bell and send for his man, 
feeling that he would know, at once, if aught 
were seriously amiss with the ‘‘boy,” who 
acted as if he, too, had caught the fever which 
had detained them so long in the southwest and 
from which the father had nearly died. 

“That^s all right. Ring, if you need any- 
thing for yourself, but I — well, 1^11 just wire a 
few words to Mrs. Sinclair, then read you what 
will make you stare.” 

“Rupert, for peace ^s sake, don’t stir up that 
old woman, to-night. We’re not at the office 
and it’s past business hours — ” 

“Beg pardon, father, but it’s a case of 
‘needs must.’ And I won’t stop to wire. 
Since you’ve summoned your man I’ll send the 
message direct to her house. ’ 

The messenger was hastily dispatched and 
then the younger lawyer read that same “As- 
sociated Press” article which had already star- 
tled so many other people into hasty action. 
When it was finished, Mr. George Disbrow 


REFUGIO ONCE MORE 


S2S 


leaned back and sigbed in vast relief, saying: 

^‘Well! If anything in this topsy-turvy 
world could surprise me that story would. It 
seems incredible, but I^m only too thankful to 
believe it. It will ^settle’ our whimsical client 
as nothing less amazing would; and end for 
us a ‘case’ that has been much more plague 
than profit. ’ ’ 

“But how strange that Mr. Manuel has 
never been heard from! What is your theory 
in the matter?’ 

“A capable lawyer never indulges in theo- 
ries. He sticks to facts. What now?” 

A servant entered and delivered a note to 
the old gentleman, who took it, protesting 
against further disturbance of his rest time. 
Then, as he recognized the handwriting on the 
envelope, his expression altered to one as ex- 
cited as that of his son. 

“Of all things! A note from the very man 
we were discussing and at the very moment! 
Hear this : 

“ ‘My Dear Sir: 

•Having for some months been absent from 
my home, in hospital in this city and extremely 


324f 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


ill, I knew nothing of what has transpired at 
Refugio until to-night. I refer you to the 
evening papers to explain why I start for 
Albuquerque, immediately, without delaying to 
call upon you at your office. I will communi- 
cate with you from that town. 

‘Yours truly, Adkian Manuel.^ 

“Well, father, I think that’s decent of the 
gentleman, and satisfactory. He always has 
been punctilious and correct in his few dealings 
with us. I’ll write that Miguel. Theirs is an 
out of the way place, but a letter will reach 
there — give it time. Hold on! I’ve an idea. 
Business isn’t pressing at this season of the 
year, and I’ll run out to Albuquerque myself. 
I’d give a big sum to see those children safe 
again and make them understand I’m not the 
terrible ogre who so nearly scared them to 
death. Was that another knock? Yes. 
Come in.” 

It was his own messenger, returned, bring- 
ing him a reply, short and sharp, like its 
writer : 

“Yours received. I’m taking matters into 


REFUGIO ONCE MORE 


325 


my own hands. I leave for Albuquerque on 
the seven o’clock, limited. Mary Sinclair.” 

^ ^ Good for the old lady ! I’ll meet her on the 
train. We’ll journey together to Albu- 
querque. ’ ’ 

So there came a goodly company winding 
down from the hills into the valley of Refugio. 
Never, since the days of the old Padres, had 
such a cavalcade appeared there, seeking shel- 
ter in the blessed House of Refuge. 

Old Guadalupo, still basking in the sun be- 
fore the kitchen door, blinked and called to 
Marta : 

‘‘Put on the pot, old woman! Bring your 
guitar and sing your shrillest. They are 
coming! By the ears of my spirit I hear 
them. ’ ’ 

Too glad to hobble, as she used to do, Marta 
flew to the threshold. Age seemed to have left 
and joy transformed her. 

“Ah, soul of my life, I have, I have! Al- 
ready, there is seethed the flesh of the kid, and 
there are baked the cakes and sweeties that my 
children love. Loaves? Why, heart’s dearest, 


326 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


you liave never seen such loaves! But, Anita? 
An-i-ta ! ’ 

‘‘Well, then, madre mia, what is it?^’ 

“Where is that boy, Miguel?’^ 

Coquettish for the first time since these 
many, many days, the maid shrugged her pretty 
shoulders and settled a rose in her dark hair, 
as she answered: 

“Where? How should I know?’’ 

“Know? Since he returned from that un- 
happy search of his — know? Why, minion, 
you know more of my boy, Miguel, now-a-days, 
than the mother who bore him. Yet, mark my 
words! He has a temper! Ah! yes. When 
you are his wife, let the folds of his silken shirt 
be creased the wrong way but once and I tell 
you — Oh! Have a care!” 

“For a woman, breathless, there are many 
words, madre. But I am glad to know. That 
shirt — it shall be ever rightly creased. Si. 
But to-day he has no eyes for me. He has al- 
ready gone, flown upon that Amador, to meet 
those who come. I? I cannot wait! How 
can I? Nor — need I! For — they come, they 
come ! Hola! But- the House of Refuge will 
be full this night! and the fiesta we will make 


REFUGIO ONCE MORE 


327 


shall last for days and days. Behold, my 
mother, what a company is this that comes from 
Albuquerque ! ^ ’ 

Where is that Pablo? Here. He shall 
stand here with us. Is every vaquero in place? 
Fall into line, there! For not a single soul 
upon the Master’s rancho shall fail to bid him 
welcome when he comes once more unto his own. 
I have said it, I, Anita. So it must be. And 
now — They come! Give them true Spanish 
welcome — lusty and from the heart : Bien 
Venido! Bien! BIEN!!’’^ 

Truly, they had ‘‘come.” Adrian Manuel, 
his children on either side ; the Burnhams, 
“root and branch”; Rupert Hisbrow, glad as a 
boy to be back at Refugio in such happy times ; 
Patterson of the terse speech and loyal heart; 
Mistress Mary Sinclair, riding in a carriage of 
honor, gay as a girl, forgiving and forgiven, 
at last one with the family for whom her soul 
had pined ; Dennis, in gorgeous garb, befitting a 
gentleman of Connemara; and last, a woman in 
Pueblo dress — Paula ; whose keen eyes saw her 
son restored — Pablo, the Dancer. 

But, as this joyful company neared the old 


1 Welcome! Good! Good! 


328 


CARLOTA OF THE RANCHO 


Mission, it diverged to a sunny spot, marvel- 
lously cared for and rich in blooming plants 
and waving palms. There Adrian Manuel and 
his children leaped down, to kneel in that be- 
loved place where the Lady of Refugio slept; 
and, understanding without words, the last bit- 
terness passed from old Mary Sinclair’s heart 
as she silently stepped down and also reverently 
knelt beside the trio. 

It was a mute petition to the living and the 
dead; and the living answered for the dead, as 
Carlota folded her arms about the aged woman 
and kissed her — ‘‘for Mary.” 


THE END 




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